


Apple of My Eye

by idoltina



Category: Glee
Genre: Blood, Boypussy Blaine, Canonical Character Death, Childbirth, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gen, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Past Abortion, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:22:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 165,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for <a href="http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/40066.html?thread=55287682#t55287682%0A">this GKM prompt</a>. AU after <i>The Break Up.</i> Blaine finds out that he’s pregnant after Kurt breaks up with him (with Kurt’s child, no less). He tries telling Kurt about it, but Kurt refuses to talk to him. Blaine decides to finish his senior year at home and give the baby up for adoption. Only he doesn’t. He ends up keeping the baby -- a daughter -- and takes her to New York with him when he leaves for college. He raises her partially on his own with some help from his parents, and tries to juggle parenthood, school, and work. And everything works out okay for a little over two years -- until he runs into Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** adult language, blood, boypussy, discussions of therapy, male pregnancy, mentions of canonical character death, mentions of canonical infidelity, mentions of childbirth, mentions of previous assault, mild disordered eating, mild illness, obsessive compulsive behavior, sex, vomiting

Blaine clicks the ‘save’ button on his essay before resting his forehead against the surface of the table with a quiet _thunk_. He only has about a third of the essay left to finish but he’s dragging -- he hasn’t had caffeine since this morning and it’s the middle of the afternoon. Everyone else around him in the campus library looks reasonably alert, if quiet, but Blaine knows they don’t have the schedule that he does. They can afford to sleep in on the weekends; he can’t.

With a sigh, he lifts his head and pinches the bridge of his nose between his eyes, trying to stave off a headache. Coffee. He needs coffee. With a glance at his wristwatch, he realizes that he has enough time to stop in a his favorite coffee shop on the way home without being late for dinner. Slightly perkier, Blaine clicks ‘save’ one more time before turning off his computer and packing up his messenger bag.

The coffee shop -- _Caff-vein_ \-- is mildly busy for a Saturday afternoon, but it’s not so busy that Blaine worries about being late for dinner. He resists the urge to buy a snack and waits by the bar for his coffee. He generally tries to keep his expenses down as much as he possibly can and he’s already technically splurging on coffee today. The espresso machine at home had been a moving gift from his parents and he’s put it to good use every day since then. It seems frivolous to waste five dollars on one cup of coffee when ten dollars can go toward buying him coffee beans and milk that will last him for at least a week.

When the barista finally calls his name, Blaine plucks his travel mug from the counter and turns around to head back outside. He pauses for a moment to take a quick sip before adjusting his scarf, and he’s just about to head for the door when he hears his name called again. Blaine turns automatically toward the sound of the voice, just to his left, and --

_Kurt._

Blaine feels rooted to the spot, like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, and the only thing he’s really sure of is that he’s meeting Kurt’s curious stare with wide eyes and an open jaw. “Kurt,” he says, a little breathless. “Hi.”

“Hi.” They’re both silent for a moment -- Kurt’s eyes are sweeping over him like he’s debating what he wants to say, and Blaine’s voice is lost at the sight of his ex-boyfriend. Blaine doesn’t know _what_ to say, so he takes the moment of silence and focuses on details to distract himself. There’s a sketchpad and a case of drawing pencils and a laptop strewn across Kurt’s tables, and he’s sitting alone and he looks so _good_ \-- “You made it,” Kurt finally says, expression shifting into something a little appraising.

Blaine blinks a little and tries to refocus. “What?”

“To New York,” Kurt elaborates. “I’m… assuming you’re going to school out here?”

“Um, yeah,” Blaine affirms, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Steinhardt. What -- what about you? Are you still at Vogue.com?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, gesturing to his laptop. “I’m actually a columnist now, though I’ve been doing some other freelance stuff on the side.”

Blaine tries offering a polite smile and shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “That’s great,” he says faintly. “I’m glad that worked out for you.” His phone vibrates in his pocket, then, and he mumbles an apologetic excuse as he digs for it, fingers swiping across the screen as he reads a text message from Chloe. She’s checking to make sure that he’ll be home in time for dinner (which is unnecessary; she should know by this point that he will _always_ be home for dinner), and it’s not until he’s quickly tapping out a response that it hits him.

Joy.

Blaine blinks up from his phone to where Kurt is sitting and watching him patiently and oh _god_. Blaine has never really prepared for this scenario, at least not realistically. He’s never let himself hope that he’d run into Kurt after their break-up because he _couldn’t_. It hurt too much to still be in love with Kurt, even after all these years (and god, even if Blaine had the time to date, he wouldn’t have even the slightest inclination). Blaine’s priorities are different now -- he’s not allowed to be selfish. Loving Kurt is selfish enough; thinking about what it would be like to run into him, to _explain_ things to him is never a luxury that Blaine has never allowed himself.

But now Kurt is sitting in front of him after noticing him, after calling him out, and their conversation may be stilted and awkward and superficial but they’re _talking_ , and Blaine’s pretty sure that he can’t open his mouth right now or else it’s all going to come tumbling out the wrong way and it’s just --

Not like this. It can’t be like this. Kurt deserves better.

_Joy_ deserves better.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says instead, once he feels comfortable enough to speak again. And god, if Kurt only knew, if he could only _understand_ just how sorry Blaine really is. “I can’t stay -- I need to get home.”

“I won’t keep you,” Kurt says, voice a little quiet. He waves a little awkwardly, which Blaine mirrors, but Blaine can barely turn around and try to remember how to breathe before Kurt’s speaking again. “Blaine?” Blaine swallows and turns back around, eyebrows arched in silent question. Kurt looks _nervous_ and oddly young, for all that he’s twenty-two now, and the hope that flickers in his eyes makes Blaine’s heart skip a beat. “Would you… maybe want to run into me here again?” Kurt ventures tentatively. “Same time next week?”

Blaine exhales slowly and feels some of the tension melt out of his shoulders. They’ve hardly interacted and Blaine hasn’t given much thought to how Kurt might act around him if this were to ever happen, but somehow this is all not really what Blaine might’ve expected. Kurt doesn’t seem angry or upset. He wants to see Blaine again, wants to possibly talk and catch up and Blaine has to stop his train of thought there because he is not allowed that kind of hope any more, not for himself.

For Joy, though… maybe.

“Sure,” Blaine agrees, trying to sound just warm enough. He’s still nervous and unsure and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, as always, and he’s still blindly in love with his ex-boyfriend, but… Truthfully, Blaine _misses_ him, misses the friendship they’d built their romance upon -- the late night calls and texts and inside jokes and marathons and support. Blaine hasn’t had a real friend since they broke up, and while Joy has brought so much light into his life, it’s not the same. It’s a different kind of love, and even if Blaine could get friendship (or more, his heart quietly beats) from Kurt, at the end of the day, this isn’t about him.

At the very least, he owes this to Joy.

Awkwardly, Kurt and Blaine exchange phones and numbers. Blaine has no idea if Kurt has changed his in the last three years, but Blaine has. He’d changed it not long after their break-up, but it wasn’t because of Kurt, not really. Blaine had purposefully isolated himself with the goal in mind of having a clean slate when he moved to New York. That hadn’t gone completely according to plan, but he’s here, now, working his ass off and doing his best and getting Kurt’s phone number.

Things could be a lot worse.

Their fingertips brush when they exchange phones back, and Blaine tries very hard to ignore the jolt of electricity that goes up his arm at the contact. “I’ll be in touch,” Kurt says, setting his phone back down on the table. “See you Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Blaine agrees, adjusting the strap on his messenger bag.

“Blaine?” Again, Kurt says his name, almost like he’s testing it out on his tongue and in his mouth again, and it’s all music to Blaine’s ears. “It was really good to see you.” And then Kurt smiles, and even if it is a little careful and restrained, it’s still warm and genuine and Blaine feels it all the way down to his toes.

He tries to remember how to breathe, tries to tamper down the feeling of wanting to cry and work past his heart being in his throat in order to speak. “It’s good to see you, too,” he says, and he’s careful with his smile, too.

Even after three years, Blaine feels like Kurt can still see right through him.

The walk home is almost a non-existent blur for Blaine, even with the coffee in his hand. He can’t think straight, not after being in the library all day and running into Kurt. He feels off-kilter and unfocused when he walks in the front door of his apartment. He sets his things down in the living room quietly, too stunned to call out a greeting, and it takes Chloe a minute to emerge out of the hallway. “Hey!” she greets. “How’d the paper go?”

“Okay,” he answers distractedly, shrugging out of his scarf and coat. “I got most of it done, but I wanted to be home for dinner. I’ll finish it after I put her to bed later.” He hesitates for a moment, hanging up his coat and scarf in the closet near the front door to buy himself some time. “Listen,” he ventures tentatively. “I hate to do this to you, but are you free next Saturday?”

Chloe laughs as she brushes past him to grab her own coat and scarf from the closet, tucking on a knit cap over her blonde hair. “Why?” she teases. “Got a hot date?”

“You wish,” he throws back, grinning in spite of himself. It’s _not_ a date, even if it is Kurt, and Chloe’s just pulling his leg, now. “You know my dating life is non-existent with Joy.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugs, leaning against the back of the couch. “You normally like to have a really good reason to hire me on the weekends.”

“I’m having coffee with an old friend,” he placates, moving to the side table near the door and unearthing his checkbook. “How was she today?” he asks, filling out a check for Chloe.

“She’s an angel, you know that,” Chloe says warmly. “We went to the park earlier and then came home and had apple juice and read books.”

Blaine’s mouth twitches into a smile as he rips the check out and hands it to her. “How’s her bedroom look right now?”

Chloe laughs. “She’s only got about twelve books on the floor, so not too bad. It could be worse.”

“I’ll see if I can’t get her to put some of them away before I start dinner,” Blaine sighs. “Thank you, Chloe, as always.”

“And as always, the pleasure is all mine,” she says warmly. “See you next week!”

Blaine shuts the door behind her as she leaves and takes a moment to collect himself. The coffee has only sort of helped and his mind is dizzy with details and memories and worries and Kurt. But Blaine can’t do anything about it right now, not without doing too much too soon and making an even bigger mess of things. Instead, he gives himself a moment to make sure he’s breathing calmly, and with the familiar ball of sheer will in his gut and longing in his heart, he pushes himself off of the front door and makes his way down the hall to the bedroom on the right.

The sight of Joy -- surrounded by about twelve books, as promised -- is enough to at least push Kurt to the peripherals of Blaine’s mind. Blaine watches her with a fond smile for a moment, leaning against the door frame, before greeting her. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Joy blinks up from her current book that she can’t read, face lighting up with a beaming smile when she catches sight of him. And it’s that -- that _look_ on her face -- that makes it all worth it. It’s dawning familiarity and comfort and happiness and pure, untainted _love_ and adoration. Blaine kneels down as Joy pushes herself to her feet and runs over to him. Blaine’s arms wrap a little tighter than usual around his almost two-and-a-half year old daughter as she snuggles against him and he feels the familiar ping of unconditional love he has for her in his heartstrings.

And if Blaine holds her a little longer than he normally would, well.

She _does_ have Kurt’s nose.

* * * * *


	2. Chapter 2

Coffee turns into coffee plus lunch and a long afternoon of catching up.

Kurt’s not really prepared for how awkward and uncomfortable it is at times. They cover topics that are supposed to be safe for two exes catching up after a long time -- school, work, family. But each of those issues touches on something sensitive for both of them. Blaine talks about wanting to be a teacher but seems reluctant to talk about it, especially when Kurt asks why. Blaine deflects a lot and asks more questions -- about Rachel, about work and school, about family. Kurt finds himself struggling to answer what are supposed to be simple questions: he looks away uncomfortably when he explains that he and Rachel haven’t been friends for years; he admits to applying to NYADA a second time but not getting in and glosses over it with the fact that he’s been taking classes on the side to get a degree in business. He drops his eyes to his lap when he talks about his dad’s cancer and closes them entirely when Blaine asks about Finn.

He hardly says more than five words about Finn. It’s been over two years and it still hurts too much.

It takes Blaine’s hand resting gently on top of his on the table for Kurt to look up again, and the soft concern and apology in Blaine’s eyes is enough to make Kurt’s heart skip a beat.

Somehow, their afternoon together gets easier after that, and even though they’re nowhere near as comfortable around each other as they used to be, it’s still the echo of familiarity. They make a standing lunch date for the middle of next week before Blaine insists on needing to be home in time for dinner. Kurt teases him, makes an obvious joke about being unable to be outside after dark that Blaine takes in stride with a smile and a laugh and a _something like that_.

When Kurt gets home, he curls up on the couch in a worn hoodie and calls his dad. Kurt can hear the reservation in his dad’s voice when he talks about Blaine, but it’s obvious that there’s an unspoken push there, urging Kurt to continue his attempts at reconciliation. It’s strange to think of it that way, as a reconciliation. They ran into each other last weekend and had lunch today and are having lunch next week. Kurt would hardly call it a reconciliation, but it’s definitely… something. And Kurt knows that his dad’s silent advice and encouragement comes from a place of caring; he knows that they’ve both been influenced by loss and that his dad lives more in the moment than he ever has before.

The thing is, Kurt hasn’t had much opportunity to do that in recent years. So much had happened in the first year he’d been living in New York -- his break-up with Blaine, his father’s battle with cancer, the explosive end to his friendship with Rachel, a second move, a small promotion from Isabelle, Finn’s passing. By the time Kurt had been living in New York for a year, he was already such a different person and almost none of it had been by choice. He’s always been guarded, but Blaine’s betrayal had left him wounded and empty, and it’d been impossible for him to open himself up to anyone after that. Moving out of the loft and cutting ties with Rachel almost sent Kurt back to Ohio and his ill father -- possibly back to _Blaine_ \-- but his dad had been adamant that Kurt stay in the city, and his promotion had kept him here. Losing Finn almost made him give up because _what was the point_?

But Kurt stayed because he got out and Finn didn’t, and for the last couple of years, Kurt’s life has been a solitary one filled with only his dad and Carole and Isabelle’s doting and affectionate presence. He has a job that he’s fairly good at that he doesn’t hate and he can make ends meet and he makes a point to see his dad and Carole as often as he can. But it’s been a _lonely_ couple of years tainted with hardship and loss, and it’s this -- this potential reconciliation with Blaine -- that makes Kurt re-evaluate who he is and where he’s at.

Because he’s always been resilient. He’s always been independent. He’s always known how to keep his head above water. But his relative isolation makes him reflect on his three years with New Directions as some sort of flimsy fantasy that didn’t have a follow-through. This -- this is his real life, now, and it’s so much less than he’d ever thought it would be, than he was ever promised it would be. Granted, he doesn’t get picked on the way he did in high school, but he attributes that to the fact that he’s twenty-two and a professional. But the real world, his real life, is messy. It’s not pleasant. There are times he’s felt like he didn’t get paid enough for what he did, months he worried about making ends meet, months he felt bad for asking for help from his dad. There is always a bill to pay and never enough time or money for the luxury of a real vacation or even a Broadway show. He’s always peripherally worrying about his dad’s health and he doesn’t have a best friend to have adventures with and he’s not even touching his love life with a ten foot pole.

Sometimes Kurt wonders what the point of it all is. He wonders if he’s changed at all, or if he’s just closed himself off and been resistant to change entirely.

The thing is, Blaine has always been good about breaking down his walls, and it had only taken the sight of him for Kurt to feel them start to crumble. He’s not entirely sure what he wants out of Blaine right now -- if he wants to try being friends again or if he wants to rekindle their romance or what -- but he’s not sure he needs to know. At least not right now. Kurt knows how Blaine used to make him feel -- safe, connected, loved. He knows how he felt when Blaine had broken his heart -- betrayed, hollow, aching. And he knows how he felt when he saw Blaine in the coffee shop last week, and how he felt spending time with him today.

Hopeful.

Kurt’s scared of that, but he also knows that he needs it. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up if he doesn’t have it.

So they have lunch again, and one lunch date turns into another, and then another, until they’re having lunch three days a week and spending a few hours together one day out of the weekend. It gets easier every time; they still have a fair amount in common, and once they get talking, it’s hard for them to stop. There’s history there, lingering between them, but Kurt thinks less and less of the sting of Blaine cheating on him and more of the person Blaine has grown to be. Kurt may not be sure if he’s changed or not, but in a way, that’s really okay. Blaine seems to be much in the same boat as he is, a myriad of both change and familiarity. He is still so inherently _Blaine_ , all politeness and charm and charisma and kindness and heartfelt words spoken in soft tones. But he’s different, too. He’s not the boy who’d been comfortable in the spotlight and hadn’t thought about sharing it until Kurt had pointed it out. He’s not the boy who’d lived under his brother’s shadow and he’s not the boy who had needed Kurt so much it’d driven him to doing something he regretted. Blaine has always been a giver, but he breathes selflessness now. He’s far more interested in Kurt’s accomplishments even though they’re insignificant, far more interested in perusing Kurt’s sketches and reading over Kurt’s columns. He makes decisions much more easily than before and is more frugal with money and Kurt finds him _fascinating_.

It feels as easy as breathing even if they don’t talk much about their break-up, and for once, Kurt doesn’t feel like questioning it. He doesn’t take as much for granted as he used to and he doesn’t want to take Blaine for granted, not like he had before. He’s grateful for Blaine’s companionship, and if Isabelle notices an improvement in his mood over the course of the month, she doesn’t say anything.

By the time Halloween rolls around on the last Saturday of the month, Kurt feels comfortable enough to try falling back into one of their old stand-bys. He knows that it’s important to Blaine to be home for dinner, so Kurt picks up some Thai takeout and an array of horror and thriller films and shows up at Blaine’s door a little before six. It’s the first time he’s been to Blaine’s apartment, but he can’t imagine he’ll be unwelcome, not when he comes bearing gifts and he’s tried accommodating Blaine’s schedule.

Blaine answers the door in costume, which makes Kurt grin all the way to his ears. He holds up the bag of takeout in one hand and rattles the DVD cases in his free hand. “I have brought the party to you.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says slowly, and there’s both warmth and hesitation in his voice. “I, um -- I wasn’t expecting you.”

“It’s not a surprise if you’re expecting me,” Kurt laughs. He takes in Blaine’s simple but well-done Prince Eric costume, smile faltering a little. “Oh,” he says quietly. “I didn’t -- you probably have plans. I’m sorry. I just -- you always talk about needing to be home for dinner and I just thought that if I brought it to you, that we could --”

“No, no, I get it,” Blaine assures him. “It’s -- that’s so thoughtful of you,” he laughs, and his smile makes Kurt’s toes curl in his shoes. “I do have plans, but not for very long. I just, um…” The smile disappears and Blaine’s hand rubs at the back of his neck, a nervous habit that has never gone away and Kurt knows well by now. He looks uncomfortable, and it occurs to Kurt that whatever Blaine’s not saying might be something they’ve avoided talking about.

What if Blaine has a date?

Before Kurt can even wrap his head around the thought, much less what his reaction to it might be (or if he’s even allowed to have a reaction to it), there’s a new voice that comes from behind Blaine. The sound is so jarring that Kurt shifts his gaze to look at its owner, and he knows he fails at masking his surprise when a tiny toddler in a pink dress comes bounding down a hallway. “Daddy!” she calls, little feet carrying her as fast as they can. Blaine turns around immediately and kneels down to meet her without any hesitation, and Kurt can’t find it in him to care that he’s lost Blaine’s attention at all. “Need my bow,” she says breathlessly, presenting a bright pink hair bow to Blaine.

“In a minute, sweetie,” Blaine says, patient and calm. He pulls the girl into his arms and pushes himself to his feet, and Kurt can see how reluctant Blaine is to turn back to face Kurt. Blaine inhales sharply and lifts his gaze slowly, much more guarded than he’s been in the last month. “This… is my daughter, Joy,” he explains. Blaine’s attention shifts back to the girl -- Blaine’s _daughter_ \-- almost immediately, and Kurt can see the muscles in his face shift and change to school his expression into something more suitable for a doting parent. “This is my friend Kurt,” he says to Joy. “Can you say hi?”

Kurt takes a breath to steady himself and offers her a small smile. She curls in a little closer to Blaine and surveys Kurt quietly, and it takes a moment before she holds the accessory in her hand out in his direction and says, “Bow?”

Blaine laughs, eyes crinkling with his smile, and he presses a kiss to Joy’s temple. “Yes, sweetheart, Kurt likes bows.” He shifts his gaze back over to Kurt and bites his lip, clearly nervous again. “Um, come in,” he ventures, moving aside to make room. “Just -- give me a few minutes, okay?”

Kurt follows them into the apartment and shuts the door behind him, setting his bags on the coffee table before settling down on the couch next to Blaine. They’re all mostly silent while Blaine fixes up Joy’s hair with the bow (and in the quiet, Kurt realizes that she’s supposed to be Princess Melody). Neither of them speaks to the other until after Blaine’s sent Joy to her room to retrieve her shoes and sweater. “Look,” Blaine sighs. “I know that this is a lot, but I don’t -- I’m taking her trick-or-treating for like an hour and then I’ll be back. Do you just… want to hang out here until I get her to sleep? You can stick the takeout in the fridge and we can have it later. I gave Joy an early dinner tonight, but I haven’t eaten yet, and whatever you brought smells incredible.”

“Sure,” Kurt agrees, and he sounds so much calmer than he feels, but that’s probably a good thing.

It’s a weird feeling, to be alone in Blaine’s apartment like this. The food is in the fridge and the DVDs are still on the coffee table, forgotten for the time being. Kurt is -- he isn’t unwelcome here, that much is clear, but it’s obvious that they’re going to have an awkward, uncomfortable conversation once Joy is asleep. Kurt had been hoping they were hitting their stride enough that there wouldn’t be many more of those (and there it is again -- infernal, necessary hope). But there is absolutely no way around this, because Blaine has a _child_ and Kurt was in no way, shape, or form prepared for this at all.

He is alone in Blaine’s apartment and he is not unwelcome, so he pushes himself off of the couch and starts to explore the apartment both just to keep himself busy and to curb his curiosity. The apartment is nicer than his own, thought not by a whole lot. Mostly it’s just bigger and less artfully decorated. It’s surprisingly clean, considering, but it’s very much obviously lived in. That much is clear by the booster seat Kurt finds in the kitchen and the array of bath toys Kurt finds in the bathroom off of the left of the hall. There’s a bedroom on the right side of the hall that is very clearly Joy’s room, full of toys and a miniscule wardrobe and a crammed bookshelf. On the wall is a framed photograph of Blaine holding an infant Joy, presumably on the day she was born, if the hospital gown Blaine is wearing is anything to go by. Blaine looks so _happy_ in the photograph, fingers touching his daughter almost reverently, and even though Kurt’s seen the two of them together, it all still a little foreign and unreal to him. He doesn’t recognize the Blaine in the photograph, doesn’t know him, and he ignores the twist in his chest in favor of turning to leave the room. Something on the bed catches his eye, though, and he can’t help but sink down onto the tiny mattress and pick it up in his hands.

Margaret Thatcher dog.

He’d completely forgotten about it after their break-up, but it’s been here all along, still fulfilling its intended purpose. He’s willing to bet that it brings comfort to Joy now the way Kurt had hoped it would bring comfort to Blaine years ago. And it’s that -- the knowledge that there’s been this little piece of him here in Blaine’s life, with Blaine’s _daughter_ \-- that pushes him just a little too far.

Kurt inhales sharply, puts the stuffed animal back where he found it, and tries to move on.

An in-unit washer/dryer along the rest of the hallway, tucked away, and then Blaine’s bedroom at the end of the hallway. No second bathroom, but a tall dresser and a small desk and a spacious closet. It’s so much less personal than Blaine’s bedroom in Ohio had been, less full of trinkets and prized possessions and much more functional and practical. There is still, however, an entire drawer dedicated to bowties, and his closet is still comprised largely of polos and colorful cardigans. But again, Kurt is drawn to the only photograph in the room, a frame perched on the nightstand. Again, it’s Blaine and Joy, but she’s much older in this, hair curling out of an adorable cap, cheeks flushed pink. There’s something different about Blaine’s eyes in this one, but he still looks incandescently happy, his arms wrapped around his daughter.

This time, Kurt retreats from the room out of respect, feeling a little like he’s intruded on Blaine’s privacy more than he should.

He’s on the couch and only half-watching one of the films he brought when Blaine and Joy come back. Kurt takes their return as a quiet indication that he should start reheating the takeout, and he makes a point of keeping the volume on the television low so he can keep an ear out for Blaine. At least, that’s what he tells himself, because it’s weird to think about it as eavesdropping on his ex-boyfriend and his kid. Even so, Kurt doesn’t hear much -- the sound of Joy’s laughter in the bathroom; Blaine’s gentle, even voice as he talks to her in the bedroom (reading, probably); the sound of Blaine singing, quiet and melodic (and Kurt hasn’t heard that in _years_ , god, he’d forgotten how much Blaine’s singing got to him).

It’s close to seven-thirty by the time Blaine joins him on the couch, out of costume and in comfortable sweats and a worn NYU t-shirt. The takeout sits warm in dishes on the coffee table, steam spiraling into the air, but Blaine doesn’t reach for his plate, doesn’t even look over at Kurt. Kurt can practically hear the cogs turning in Blaine’s head, trying to figure out how to explain Joy, trying to figure out how to explain why he didn’t say anything.

And it’s that -- the fact that Kurt can sort of tell what Blaine’s thinking, even if the details are a mystery to him -- that relaxes Kurt. He still _knows_ Blaine, still gets him, even after all these years, even with a child. He suddenly finds that he doesn’t _need_ an explanation, not really. He can understand why it would be a big deal for Blaine to try talking about Joy. It’s not necessarily about Kurt. Blaine is still young -- they both are, in ways, even though they’ve grown and changed -- and he’s sure that makes explaining Joy frustrating and awkward. And, well.

Kurt is really, really over things being awkward between them. He just -- he likes Blaine, and he likes spending time with Blaine. He always has, and that hasn’t changed even though they’re not together. Kurt still isn’t sure what he ultimately wants out of Blaine -- especially now that he knows Joy’s in the picture -- but he’s sure of one thing, now.

He still wants Blaine’s friendship.

“It’s okay,” he says finally. “I get why you didn’t say anything.”

Blaine still doesn’t look at him. “You do?” he mutters.

“Well, I can hazard a guess,” Kurt amends. “I just -- I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. I don’t want you to be like, ashamed of her, or anything --”

“I’m not.” Blaine looks Kurt right in the eye when he says it, voice clear and firm and absolutely sure, and Kurt believes him. “I _love_ Joy. She’s… my whole _world_ , Kurt. I could never be ashamed of her. I just…” He tapers off, here, and looks away again.

“You don’t owe me an explanation --”

“Yes, I do,” Blaine sighs, clearly frustrated.

“ _No_ , you don’t,” Kurt insists, somehow so much more remarkably calm than Blaine is right now. He’s not freaking out. Not really. “You have a kid, Blaine, that’s a big thing to tell _anyone_.”

Blaine ventures a look back up at him, shoulders more relaxed but tension still obvious in the lines of his face. “You really don’t understand.”

“I don’t know that I need to,” Kurt says with a shrug. “I mean, if you _want_ to try explaining, that’s fine, but you don’t have to. You having a kid hasn’t prevented us from reconnecting, Blaine. I doubt it’ll keep us from being friends.”

Blaine breathes in and Kurt can see him hold the breath. “Is that what we are?” Blaine asks quietly. “Friends?”

It’s Kurt’s turn to be nervous, now, but he forces himself not to look away. “I’d like to be,” he admits, soft but sure. Blaine still looks a little overwhelmed, much like Kurt had felt earlier, but the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smile, and Kurt recognizes the feeling in Blaine’s eyes and smile as the same one he’s been chasing since he saw Blaine in the coffee shop.

Hope.

With an easy smile, Kurt picks up the plates from the coffee table and offers one to Blaine. “Tell me about her.”

* * * * *


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt knowing about Joy -- well, knowing that Joy exists, anyway -- is just… a lot. In a lot of ways, it almost makes things worse. Blaine is even more hyper-aware of everything he says and does when Kurt is around, particularly in relation to Joy. Kurt knows that Joy exists but he doesn’t know that she’s his child, and it’s not -- it’s not like Blaine is deliberately keeping the truth from him. But they’ve only _just_ started being friends again. They’re still re-learning each other, the familiar and the unknown. Kurt hasn’t seen Blaine as a _parent_ before, and even though Blaine is conscious of Kurt’s presence when Joy is present, Blaine can’t focus on it. Telling Kurt the truth about Joy is all about trust and careful timing, and as much as Blaine wants to be able to just tell him to minimize how much Kurt gets hurt, Blaine can’t do that. He can’t just tell Kurt the truth, because this isn’t about him. This is about Joy, and Blaine _has_ to think about her first in everything that he does.

But in a lot of ways, Kurt knowing that Joy is in the picture almost makes things easier, better. Blaine still has a lot to keep to himself (not hide, not conceal, that’s not what he’s doing), but at the same time, it’s almost like a weight has been lifted off of him. He can mention Joy without worrying about Kurt freaking out over the fact that he has a child. Joy can be around when they spend time together. And Blaine is finally allowed to really just _be a parent_ , which -- regardless of how difficult or different or new it is -- is a role that he lives and breathes down to his bones.

It only takes one more weekend after Halloween for Kurt to realize that Blaine is paying for a babysitter so that they can hang out on weekends. Kurt balks at that, which -- okay, it’s a little ridiculous because Kurt doesn’t really know exactly what Blaine’s financial situation is like, and the babysitter thing is really not a big deal. But Kurt insists that he doesn’t mind being around Joy; he says that he actually finds her kind of sweet, and Blaine kind of, maybe, totally cries himself to sleep that night because Kurt _likes her_. So Blaine defaults back to only hiring a babysitter when necessary (he has two he rotates through, and with the holidays approaching, it’s always kind of hit or miss whether or not he’ll be able to book them), and Kurt starts spending time with them both.

By the time Blaine and Joy go back to Ohio for Thanksgiving, there’s just… a lot swimming around in Blaine’s head. He’s approaching the end of his semester, which means a lot of work and preparing for finals next month. He’s lucky that he works on campus and that he has the luxury of coming home for the holidays because it’s one less thing that he has to worry about right now. He’s still trying to figure out where his relationship with Kurt is at and where it’s going because he can’t even _think_ about telling Kurt otherwise. And then there’s Joy -- there is _always_ Joy, first and foremost and most importantly.

His father seems to notice that he’s a little stressed out, but he waits until they’re alone in the kitchen on Thanksgiving morning before he says anything. Joy is with Blaine’s mother in the living room, loved and looked after, but even with the sound of her laughter and squeals, the house is noticeably quieter because of Cooper’s absence. Blaine loves his brother -- he’s a _spectacular_ uncle to Joy -- but it’s a little nice that Cooper’s not here right now. Blaine needs the extra quiet and calm to sort his thoughts out without Cooper around, and they’ll see him at Christmas, anyway.

And then he feels guilty for the thought, because Kurt doesn’t get to see his brother ever again.

“You are somewhere else,” Blaine’s father observes as they work on their contributions to the Thanksgiving dinner.

Blaine sighs and rubs tiredly at his eyes. “I’ve just… got a lot on my mind.”

“Are you guys doing okay?” his father asks gently, glancing over at him. “Is there anything else you need from us?”

Blaine leans against the counter and offers his father a small smile. “No,” he says warmly. “You and Mom do… _more_ than enough for us. It’s -- we’re fine, Joy and I. I mean, school gets harder with each semester, but I’m keeping my head above water.”

“So what’s stressing you out?” his father laughs, turning his attention back to the food in front of him.

Blaine drops his gaze to the floor and rubs at the back of his neck uncomfortably. He’s not sure he particularly wants to tell his parents about Kurt. He’s not sure how they’ll react, given his history with Kurt, particularly because they’ve been extra supportive (sometimes in place of Kurt, though Blaine hates to think of it that way considering the way things happened). But he doesn’t _have_ anyone else outside of his family he can talk to about this -- he never has. So Blaine takes a deep breath and says, “I ran into Kurt back in September.”

His father goes very, very still, but he doesn’t look up from the dish he’s working on. “How was that?”

“Awkward,” Blaine admits with a sigh. “Really, really awkward. But we got coffee a few times and had lunch and it got less awkward, with time.”

“And?” his father prompts.

“And we’re sort of, I don’t know, friends again?” Blaine explains awkwardly. “It’s different than it was before, but it’s -- it’s actually kind of nice.”

His father pauses for a moment before asking the question Blaine’s been waiting for. “Does he know about Joy?”

Blaine shifts a little uncomfortably against the counter. “He’s met her.”

“I take it he doesn’t know she’s his child, though,” his father says. It’s not a question. It’s not even a guess.

“No,” Blaine says shortly. “We’re still trying to find our footing, but it’s not -- it’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

“So you’re thinking about telling him.”

“Well, yeah,” Blaine says, a little confused. “My opinion of it hasn’t changed, Dad. I’ve always felt like he has the right to know.”

“Yeah, you tried telling him, and look at how that turned out,” his father snaps.

“You can’t honestly be upset that I’m thinking about telling Kurt the truth,” Blaine says, a little defensive.

“I am, a little,” his father says, finally turning his attention away from the food and onto Blaine. He leans against the adjacent counter, working his jaw. “I think it’s a bad idea to rush into telling him.”

“You say that like you’re issuing an ultimatum.”

“I’m not. That’s --” His father sighs and rubs at his temple. “Can you please not revert to being a fifteen-year-old? Your mother and I have been supportive of you and Joy and every decision you have made since you told us you wanted to keep her. That’s not going to change, Blaine, so let’s not even go there.”

Blaine tries to relax, but it’s difficult. He hasn’t argued with his father in a long time, especially not like this. It’s frustrating -- Blaine needs their support, and he has it, but he also _wants_ it on another level because he doesn’t have it anywhere else. He wants them to help sort through everything he’s thinking and feeling without making the decision for him. His father’s approach isn’t conducive to that, at least not the way it seems right now. “I’m not rushing into making a decision,” he argues, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Kurt and I have only been reconnecting for two months, and he’s so sweet to her. But it’s not like I’m not thinking about Joy first, Dad. That’s all I ever do. That’s all I’ve done since I found out I was pregnant.”

“I know that,” his father assures him, sounding a little calmer. “It’s not like I don’t believe that, Blaine. I just don’t know if you really _understand_ what it means to put her first.”

“Are you kidding me?” Blaine says thickly. “Dad, everything that I’ve done -- everything I do -- is for her. I’ve asked you and Mom for help. I have a part-time job. I’m going to school so I can eventually provide better for her without your help. I make sure she’s well-looked after and you help me keep a roof over her head and food in her stomach. I take care of her when she’s sick and make sure she’s loved. Dad, I don’t have a life outside of her or the things I do _for_ her. At least, I didn’t until I ran into Kurt.”

“That’s kind of part of my point,” his father sighs. “Look, Blaine, I know how you get when it comes to Kurt, okay. Everything becomes about him. You just get so lost in how you feel about him. And don’t make this about you being gay,” his father says, cutting Blaine off before he has a chance to argue. “You know that’s not what this is about.”

“I’m not putting Kurt before Joy,” Blaine argues, trying to be patient.

His father surveys him for a moment, features softening a little, and it is with all the patience in the world that his father says, “Try and imagine what the worst case scenario would be if you told Kurt.”

Blaine rubs at the back of his neck again, uncomfortable, but he can tell, finally, that his father is actually _trying_ to help. “I don’t know, I guess -- I tell him the truth about Joy and he decides he doesn’t want anything to do with us, and we never see him again.”

There’s a sadness in his father’s eyes that wasn’t there before, and Blaine’s gut twists in nervous apprehension at what it might mean. “No,” his father says, dropping his voice and speaking as softly and quietly as he can so he won’t be overheard. “Worst case scenario is that you tell Kurt the truth -- that he’s one of Joy’s biological fathers -- and he decides that it’s not the worst thing in the world. He decides that he’s open to the idea and that he wants to try doing what you do -- he wants to be a parent to her. So he starts spending more time with her because you let him, and after a while, you explain the situation to Joy as best you can. You tell her who he is and what role he’s supposed to have in her life. And she falls absolutely in love with him -- maybe not in the way that she has with you, but she gets seriously attached. And then Kurt decides that maybe he’s not cut out for it after all, or he doesn’t want it, or he can’t get over the history between you. And _then_ Kurt leaves, and neither of you ever sees him again, and that poor little girl’s heart gets absolutely _broken_ and you are literally all she has left in the world. _That_ is the worst case scenario, Blaine.”

And Blaine’s system just kind of freezes up for a minute. Because the thing is, raising Joy mostly on his own with a lot of financial help from his parents hasn’t been nearly as hard as he knows it could have been. The first six weeks of her life had been an adjustment for everyone, but after that, things had calmed and mellowed out. Joy is such a _sweet_ child. She’s a little shy around strangers and she’s never particularly loud or too rambunctious, but she’s so full of life, so infectious. She’s curious about almost everything and very rarely misbehaves and really only gets irritable when she doesn’t feel well. When Blaine was at his darkest, Joy brought so much _light_ into his life. Blaine knows how lucky he is to have her. He knows it could be so much harder.

But there are times -- like now -- where he would take some of the more difficult stuff over feeling the way he does right now. He’d take her being slightly more misbehavioral or resistant to food or potty training or even take ten times as many more sleepless night with her keeping him awake crying over the way he feels right now. Because this -- _this_ is the hardest part about being a parent for him. It’s not that it’s hard to make sacrifices for her. He got over that a long time ago. And it’s not that he has a problem admitting when he’s wrong; there really isn’t a place for his ego in being a parent.

It’s this -- knowing that everything he says and does and thinks and feels affects her -- that’s hard. Because what if he screws up? What if he makes things worse? What if Joy gets hurt? What if whatever decision he makes scars her emotionally for the rest of her life? How does he live with himself if that happens? Is there anything he can do to fix it? Blaine just -- he wants the best for her, whatever it is. He doesn’t feel like this often, but when he does, it really hits him hard, and he feels like he constantly re-learns what it means, what it is to really _understand_ putting Joy first.

Heart in his throat, Blaine closes his eyes and looks away, wiping at the tears that have sprung into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his father says gently. “I’m not trying to be hard on you. I know you’re an adult. You’re twenty. She’s your child, not mine. I just -- I think about that sweet little girl and I --”

“No, I know,” Blaine says thickly, sniffling a little and trying to regain his composure. “You’re right. I needed to heart it. I’ll -- I’ll be careful. I’ll take my time.”

Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if Kurt is still a little selfish, it doesn’t matter that Blaine’s heart is still completely lost to him, and it doesn’t matter if Kurt deserves to know or not.

Joy comes _first_ , and Blaine _understands_.

His mother comes into the kitchen, then, balancing Joy on her hip, and Blaine barely has time to pull himself together before Joy’s reaching out for him. Wordlessly, his mother passes Joy over to him. Blaine puts a smile on his face and taps her nose affectionately. “I’m hungry,” she announces.

“It’ll still be a while before dinner,” his mother says.

“How about a sandwich?” Blaine offers, adjusting Joy in his arms.

“I’ll make it,” his father cuts in quietly. “You can get settled in at the table.” Blaine casts his father an appreciative look but doesn’t move to the table right away. Instead, he holds Joy a little closer and kisses her forehead, taking a moment to just… be sure of her. Because even though Kurt is slowly becoming part of Blaine’s life again, _this_ is Blaine’s family. When Blaine hadn’t been able to cope with the rest of the world, his family had still been there for him, and at the end of the day, they always will be.

And no matter how isolated Blaine may feel at times, he is absolutely not alone.

* * * * *


	4. Chapter 4

The problem with being both a lover and a fighter is that Kurt’s mind often fights against what his heart wants, and sometimes, there’s no fight at all. Sometimes, his heart makes the calls before he even has time to think, and he’s fallen before he can even think about hitting the ground. Right now, Kurt is somewhere in the awkward in-between, already over the edge of the cliff but still in the air, high above the ground. He’s already jumped and he’s already falling and it’s not like he can _stop_ , but he’s aware of it before his heart is on the floor and things have gotten messy.

This seems like a stupid thing to be realizing at a time like this.

Kurt may be in over his head.

It’s just -- Blaine had sounded frustrated and panicked almost to the point of tears over the phone. Kurt was offering to help before he even really thought about it, and it’s only now -- climbing the stairs to Blaine’s apartment with an _overnight bag_ in his hand -- that Kurt realizes what he’s about to do.

Kurt can hardly bring himself to think about freaking out when Blaine opens the door and gives him the most relieved, grateful smile Kurt has ever seen. Blaine steps aside to let him in and shuts the door quietly behind him. “Joy’s asleep,” Blaine explains, keeping his voice down. Kurt nods in understanding, setting his bag down on the couch.

And then Blaine’s arms are wrapped around him, and it feels like coming home. It’s the first time they’ve embraced since reconnecting in September, and here, now, in the cold of December, Kurt feels warm all the way down to his bones. “Thank you,” Blaine mumbles into his neck. “You have… _no_ idea how much this means to me.”

Kurt bites his lip and tries to keep his voice light. “It’s just babysitting.”

Blaine laughs against him, the sound music to Kurt’s ears, and Kurt can feel some of the tension melt out of Blaine’s body before he pulls back. “You’re being such a big help,” Blaine says. He’s smiling but he looks so _tired_ , and Kurt has to resist the urge to pull Blaine back into his arms. “ _And_ you’re taking the day off of work to do it. It’s just -- I have so much on my plate tomorrow and I couldn’t even think about it until I knew Joy was taken care of --”

“I’m here,” Kurt says warmly. “Breathe.”

Blaine sighs, clearly trying to relax, and gestures for Kurt to follow him into the kitchen. “I have almost all of my finals tomorrow, and I have to work in between two of them. And it’s just -- I’m going to be gone all day tomorrow. I won’t even see her. And I can’t just take her to the daycare center at school like I normally would because she’s sick, and both of her regular babysitters aren’t available and I just --”

“Relax,” Kurt says firmly, massaging at Blaine’s shoulders once they reach the kitchen. “There’s no reason to freak out any more. Well, you do have finals, but other than that, it’ll be fine. I’ll be here.” He can feel Blaine lean against him a little, reminiscent of their time together as a couple. It’s so _easy_ , unaffected and unassuming, and if Kurt closes his eyes, it almost feels real.

Almost.

Blaine inhales sharply and straightens up a little. “I, um, I have a list for you,” Blaine explains, clearing his throat and gesturing to a piece of paper on the fridge. “Any phone numbers you might need are on there -- well, any outside of mine, which you already have. She doesn’t really have any allergies, but don’t feed her too much dairy, and if you have to buy more milk, make sure it’s the same as the one that’s already in there. I think I managed to get a good list of her likes and dislikes, and her nighttime schedule is detailed, but --”

“I should just let you keep freaking out,” Kurt sighs, teasing him a little. “Let you get it all out of your system.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Blaine goes a little still under his touch and shrugs away, turning to face him. “I’ve never had to be away from her like this,” Blaine admits quietly. “I’m always home for dinner. I’m always the one who gives her a bath and reads her a story and rubs her back and sings her a song to get her to sleep. And it’s not -- it’s not that I don’t trust you, Kurt. I just -- I’m stressed out enough as it is, and she’s _sick_. She gets miserable when she’s sick, and it _kills_ me that I can’t be here for her tomorrow.”

Kurt doesn’t totally get it -- he _can’t_ , not the way that Blaine does. But he thinks he can understand the parts that Blaine is leaving left unsaid, which is that he’ll miss her while he’s gone. It reminds Kurt of what Blaine had been like when Kurt had first moved to New York, but this is different. This is Blaine’s child, and even though it’s only for a matter of twelve hours, Blaine is passing the responsibility of being a parent to Kurt. He can understand Blaine’s nerves and apprehension and doesn’t take it personally. “So help me to be,” Kurt says simply. “Run through her schedule with me.”

That gets Kurt a small smile, and together, they settle down at the kitchen table and go over the list that Blaine has comprised. “I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” Blaine allows after a while. “Really, you just need to make sure she’s fed and that she gets her medicine on time. She’s pretty much potty-trained, but there’s an extra stash of diapers in her room if you need them. And if you follow her bedtime routine, everything will be fine. It’s just -- being sick sucks all of the energy out of her. So she’ll probably just be sniffly and sleepy all day. You may end up watching _The Little Mermaid_ like, eight times, but there’s plenty of juice and soup and ice cream and she has Margaret Thatcher, so she should be okay.”

Kurt’s mouth twitches into a sympathetic smile. Blaine’s trying to convince himself that it’ll be okay, Kurt knows that. He can’t imagine how hard this must be for Blaine. “She just won’t have you,” Kurt supplies knowingly.

Blaine colors a little and looks down at the table. “I trust you. She likes you. She’ll be okay.”

“Will you?” Kurt asks gently.

Blaine nods and looks back up at him, trying to smile. “I’ll manage. I may text you a lot tomorrow, though, fair warning.”

Again, Kurt is reminded of when they’d been trying to make long-distance work. He remembers Blaine’s constant attempts at reaching him, remembers the way he’d felt frazzled trying to juggle the new things in his life with the old ones. And he’s not -- it doesn’t excuse what Blaine had done to him, but Kurt’s starting to really _get it_ , what Blaine meant when he’d said that he’d needed Kurt and Kurt wasn’t there. Kurt’s felt the aching sting of loneliness for almost three years now, ever since he’d moved out of the loft in Bushwick and cut Rachel out of his life. He’s never really wanted to need people because he’s never really _had_ them to begin with. But Kurt is starting to realize that it’s okay to need people, because a life in solitary confinement isn’t living -- it’s imprisonment.

Kurt thinks he might finally be ready to let go.

He’s just not sure how to tell Blaine that.

He thinks this might be a good way to start. Blaine needs him, and Kurt is trying to be here for him. He can handle a little obsessive texting. Blaine’s texts aren’t going to be the same as they were before. There won’t be _please don’t forget me_ between the lines. All of Blaine’s worries and concerns will be about Joy, not Kurt, and it’s selfless in such a new way that Kurt thinks suits him really well. But Blaine’s exams are important, and it’s in Kurt’s power to give him twelve hours to focus on himself.

Somehow, Kurt thinks it’s going to be really hard for Blaine to accomplish that.

“Text me all you want,” Kurt says. “Just pass your finals.”

* * * * *

Kurt sleeps on the couch that night. It’s a little strange, considering their history, but it’s the only place Blaine has for him. It’s such an odd, physical representation of where they’re at -- keeping each other at arm’s length, Joy closer to Blaine than Kurt. Blaine goes to bed fairly early, but it takes ages for Kurt to fall asleep. He feels like he’s being tested tomorrow, too. Which is -- it’s stupid, really. This isn’t a test. It’s Kurt doing Blaine a favor. But Kurt is still nervous as if he’s being tested. He’s a little out of his element here, taking care of a toddler, especially one who’s sick. Blaine’s tried to prepare Kurt for tomorrow, and Kurt knows he can call Blaine if he really needs to. It’s just --

Kurt likes Joy. He enjoys her company, when he gets the chance to spend time with her. She’s only a toddler. It can’t be that difficult to take care of her for twelve hours. But she’s _Blaine’s child_. She’s literally a part of him; his blood runs in her veins and they have the same stupidly captivating eyes and he carried her inside of him. Kurt’s afraid of doing something wrong, of her getting hurt in much the same way that he’s afraid of breaking his mother’s china.

So he’s up late worrying and doesn’t get nearly enough sleep. Blaine wakes Kurt up early, and Kurt’s pretty sure it’s only Blaine’s smile that gets him up and off of the couch. “You have time for a quick shower before I leave, if you want,” Blaine offers quietly. “I’ll put a fresh pot of coffee on for you.”

“Thanks,” Kurt mumbles sleepily, stifling a yawn behind his hand. He’s not used to being up this early -- god, is it really five-thirty? -- and he’s in desperate need of caffeine. But a shower will wake him up a little, and Blaine’s been up longer, anyway. Kurt knows Blaine normally gets up around six most of the time, anyway, in order to shower and dress and have coffee before Joy gets up. But Blaine’s first final is _early_ , and even though Joy doesn’t get up before seven (and Blaine had told him she might sleep in a little longer, since she’s sick), Kurt knows that Blaine wants him to be awake and available for Joy just in case.

Kurt smacks at his face, blinking at his reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror and trying to wake up a little more. He can do this.

Coffee first.

There’s a fresh pot, as promised, when Kurt enters the kitchen, dressed a little more casually and comfortably than he would normally. Blaine’s bundled up and ready to go. “Help yourself to breakfast,” Blaine says warmly, pushing himself to his feet and shouldering his messenger bag. “Give Joy maybe like, a half hour to really wake up before you feed her anything?”

“Okay,” Kurt yawns, reaching for the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug.

“Thank you, again, for doing this,” Blaine enthuses. “I know it’s early, but --”

“Shhh,” Kurt hushes, closing his eyes and bringing the mug to his lips. “Let me have my coffee and then I can take on the world.”

Blaine holds up his hands in surrender and leaves Kurt with a parting smile and a promise that he won’t be home past eleven (p.m., Kurt has to remind himself after Blaine’s gone and the coffee kicks in -- _god_ , this is going to be a long day).

The thing is, Kurt has a lot of time to himself after Blaine leaves. He gets through his first two cups of coffee and makes himself an omelette and touches base with Isabelle to remind her that he won’t be in today. Seven o’clock comes and goes, and it’s not until seven-thirty that the relative quiet of the apartment is disrupted with Joy’s soft and sleepy voice. “Daddy?”

Kurt glances up at the doorway to the kitchen where Joy is standing and rubbing at one of her eyes, Margaret Thatcher tucked under her arm. Bolstered by the coffee, Kurt offers her a smile and moves toward her, kneeling in front of her. “Daddy had to go to school,” Kurt explains. “He’ll come back later, okay? I’ll stay with you today.” She nods a little before coughing into the sleeve of her pajamas. She’s so _docile_ like this, sleepy and sick (and polite, god, she’s so well-mannered for a toddler). It makes Kurt a little sad, honestly, to see her kind of miserable, but he’s got Blaine’s list. He can help with that.

And it’s easy to keep up the can-do attitude for at least the first half-hour. He gives Joy her medicine and fills up her juice cup and lets her watch morning cartoons. It gets a little more awkward when he retreats to the kitchen to make her breakfast. He’s only in there a moment or two before she follows him, clinging a little loosely to the fabric of his pants. But she doesn’t say anything, and it takes Kurt a few seconds to realize that she wants to be held.

He hasn’t held her yet. He’s spent time with her. He talks to her and plays with her and holds her hand from time to time. But he hasn’t held her and he hasn’t put her to sleep like he’s supposed to later and he feels very suddenly out of his element again. She won’t be that heavy and he’s pretty sure she’s not going to bite, so he really doesn’t know what he’s so afraid of.

This is ridiculous. He can do this.

He leans over and hoists her into his arms and isn’t at all surprised at the way her arms wrap around his neck with ease, face tucked against his chest. “I don’t feel good,” she mumbles against him.

“I know.”

“I miss Daddy.”

Kurt swallows thickly at how pitiful she sounds. “I know,” he says quietly, rubbing her back. “It’s just for today, okay? I promise I’ll take good care of you.” She doesn’t say anything, just snuggles closer to him and --

_Oh._

The pieces start to fall into place and make a little more sense, now, with Joy in his arms. She’s completely relying on him. She’s trusting him. And with that trust comes her needs, needs that Kurt has to meet. And she’s expressing them with such bare, raw, affection that it can’t be taken as anything other than genuine. She’s just a _child_ \-- _Blaine’s child_. Everything is real and unaffected and unassuming and honest to her. She’s so innocent, so trusting, and with her warmth against him, Kurt thinks he could maybe understand how Blaine feels, to really love this little girl.

Maybe.

* * * * *

The day goes mostly well. Joy is generally sweet and well-behaved and only gets mildly petulant because she’s sick. Kurt manages to make it through most of the day until bedtime, and that’s when things start to fall apart. He helps her brush her teeth after dinner and gives her a bath (and it’s _that_ , for some reason, that makes him feel like a pseudo-parent more than anything else, oddly enough). He lets her pick out her own pajamas and reads her three books before moving to the last set of items on Blaine’s list of bedtime rituals.

_Rub her back and sing her to sleep. She finds it comforting._

The rubbing the back thing, Kurt gets. It’s a nice way to be held and soothed and calmed. He’s kept in the back of his mind throughout the day and employed it a few times already, and it’s worked wonders for him in keeping Joy’s misery at being sick at bay.

It’s the singing that makes him nervous and uncomfortable.

He just… doesn’t sing all that much any more. He will at home, if he’s alone and there’s music playing, but his voice has felt lost to him for years, now. He’s out of practice, anyway, and if rubbing Joy’s back had been sufficient enough to get her to take a nap earlier, he’s sure it’ll be enough to get her to go to sleep for the night.

It’s not.

He sits in the rocking chair in her room and holds her against him and rubs her back, but she doesn’t fall asleep; he can tell by the movement of her fingers against his skin, the fidgeting of her legs on his lap. She asks for another story after a while and giggles all the way through it, clearly a little deliriously tired. Her eyelids start to droop, after that, and Kurt thinks that maybe one more story will do the trick.

It doesn’t.

She gets irritable halfway through the last book, rubbing at her eyes and whining every couple of minutes. She’s just so _exhausted_ , but she refuses to go to sleep. Kurt sighs and abandons the book, hoisting her onto his hip and heading into the kitchen for the list Blaine left him. He works his way through the suggestions on the list but nothing seems to take, and it’s in half-desperation that Kurt makes her a glass of warm milk and hopes it’ll work. He gives it a little time to kick in before having her brush her teeth again and taking her back to her bedroom. She seems sleepier, a little more docile than she has been all day, and as he tucks her under her covers, he thinks the battle’s been won.

He’s wrong.

The war’s only just beginning.

She’s in bed not five minutes before she starts to cry, and even though Kurt goes to her and tries to comfort her, she doesn’t _stop_. She cries and cries and cries and eventually screams a little, the sound grating against Kurt’s ears. He does everything he can think of: he carries her around the apartment and rocks her against him; he tries getting her to sleep in Blaine’s bed instead; he sorts his way through a variety of books and toys only to have each one rejected. It’s _exhausting_ , given how little he slept last night, and every time her sobs start to taper off and he thinks he’s in the clear, she just starts up again, worse than before. He just doesn’t know what she wants, what she needs.

Then again, he hasn’t asked.

He knows that she’s tired and he knows that she’s sick, but maybe there’s something else wrong that she’s not telling him.

Hopeful, Kurt runs a hand through his hair and tries to muster up some more stamina. “Come on, sweetheart,” Kurt murmurs softly, stroking his fingers through her hair. “Tell Kurt what’s the matter.”

She clings a little tighter to his tear-stained shirt and hiccups a little. And, to his surprise, she answers him. “I want --- I want Daddy.”

Kurt closes his eyes and feels his heart sink. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how well Blaine’s prepared him for this or how much Kurt does right. Kurt is not her father, and he can’t give her what she needs.

Kurt inhales sharply and opens his eyes, looking over at the clock in the kitchen. It’s just after nine; Blaine might still be in his last final, but Kurt doesn’t know what else to do. “Okay,” Kurt sighs, giving in. “I’m going to call him, okay? Just hold on.” She doesn’t stop crying, but at least she’s not screaming any more, so that’s a plus. Kurt digs around in his pocket until he can unearth his phone, and it’s with a defeated sigh that he dials Blaine’s number.

Blaine’s warm voice greets him almost immediately. “Hey, I was just about to call you! I just finished my last exam, so I’ll --” Blaine’s voice drops off suddenly, and for one wild minute, Kurt thinks the call’s been dropped. “What’s wrong?” Blaine asks fervently. “Why is she crying?”

Blaine can _hear_ his daughter crying over the phone, and even though Kurt is _exhausted_ , there’s a part of him that aches a little at how much Blaine must be hurting because of it.

“She’s just tired,” Kurt explains. “I did everything you suggested and then some, but she won’t go to sleep. She misses you. I don’t know that she’s going to go to bed until you get home.”

“Put me on speaker,” Blaine says immediately. “Let me talk to her.”

Kurt does as Blaine asks without argument, and it’s only a couple of seconds before Blaine’s voice comes crackling through the speaker. “Joy,” Blaine says soothingly. “Joy, it’s Daddy.” It doesn’t help -- Joy just cries harder at the sound of his voice, and when Blaine speaks again, Kurt swears he can hear Blaine’s heart breaking. “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. Daddy’s coming home right now, okay? You don’t have to cry any more. I promise I’ll be home soon.”

And somehow, miraculously, the words seem to reach her, because while she doesn’t stop crying, her cries aren’t quite so vocal any more. The tears streaming down her cheeks are only accompanied by an occasional whimper, and her tiny fingers brush against the back of Kurt’s hand, almost like she’s trying to touch Blaine’s voice.

“You tried everything?” Blaine asks quietly, addressing Kurt.

“Just about,” Kurt sighs, adjusting her in his arms.

Blaine sighs, and Kurt knows without seeing him that Blaine’s probably rubbing at his temple right now. “Okay, just -- just hold her and sing to her a little until I get home, okay? Hopefully it’ll at least keep her a little calm until I get there. I’m not far -- I shouldn’t be too long.” Kurt agrees half-heartedly and isn’t even entirely sure that Blaine hears it before he hangs up. Kurt drops his phone back into his pocket and moves into the living room, settling on the couch just to buy himself some time.

He doesn’t want to do this. He _can’t_. Singing means using his voice, using it means finding it, and finding it -- it means reconnecting with a part of himself, a version of himself that he’d long ago let go of. He isn’t the boy from Lima who screams just to be heard any more. He’s an adult, now, alone and quiet and hidden.

But Joy whimpers in his arms -- _Daddy_ \-- and Kurt can’t find it in him to refuse her. He has to be here for her until Blaine gets back, and that means putting her needs before his own.

So Kurt pushes his feelings down and away -- the exhaustion, the frustration, the feelings of loneliness and disappointment and failure -- and turns to the song that has always comforted him when he’s at his lowest. He starts out soft, low, fingers carding through her hair, and even though the tears don’t stop, her whimpers slowly start to taper off as he sings. It’s not his best, not by a long shot, but Joy doesn’t care. Kurt isn’t being judged. He isn’t being tested. Joy finds at least a little comfort in his voice, and Kurt is reminded very much of Blaine.

_I just want to… make art and… help people._

Kurt’s art may be different than it was before, but it’s still doing some good.

Joy’s hand encloses around one of his fingers, and Kurt finds his voice.

“ _And when I touch you, I feel happy inside. It’s such a feeling that my love, I can’t hide, I can’t hide, I can’t hide._ ”

Blaine still isn’t home by the time Kurt gets to the end of the song, and after that, Kurt can only summon enough energy to hum through the melody while waiting. Joy doesn’t seem to mind, though. Her tears are starting to ebb, and even though her face is red and her eyes are tired, she looks a little more content than she has all night.

Finally.

It isn’t all that long, though, before the front door clicks open and shut, and Kurt prompts Joy into movement. “Look who’s home,” he says, propping her up a little so she can turn around. Blaine’s already divested his coat and bag and is kneeling next to the couch, ready for her. Joy is out of Kurt’s lap and into Blaine’s arms _instantly_. If Blaine is exhausted, it doesn’t show, because there’s no hiding the aching love in Blaine’s expression.

Kurt settles against the back of the couch again as Blaine picks Joy up and starts to carry her to her room. Blaine mouths _thank you_ at him as he passes, and Kurt is so tired that he can barely do more than wave in acknowledgment. He’s vaguely aware of them over the next fifteen minutes; he can hear Blaine’s voice, soothing and singing and soft and --

Kurt exhales sharply and lets his head fall into his hands. He rubs hard at his eyes, overwhelmed by how quickly tears have sprung into them. What is _wrong_ with him? He’s just -- he’s just tired. This isn’t about Joy. It’s not.

It is.

Kurt doesn’t like feeling like a failure. He never has.

He’s just not sure why it stings so much more, now.

“Hey,” Blaine sighs, sinking down onto the couch next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says thickly, looking over at him. “Everything was fine, and then she just -- I did everything I could think of, but --”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine says, fingers brushing against the back of Kurt’s hand. “It’s not your fault. She just wanted me, that’s all. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“How do you do it?” Kurt gasps, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I just -- you’re juggling so much and you have so much responsibility and I have no idea how you do it.”

Blaine’s mouth twists into an odd little smile, and he curls up against the back of the couch, eyes warm and finally showing a little exhaustion. “I’m not alone,” Blaine admits quietly. “My parents -- they’re still basically supporting us financially. Which is -- it’s fine. They offered, and I know that we need them right now. They pay for school and rent and groceries and bills and babysitters. There’s a trust fund I’ll have access to when I’m twenty-five. But their support came with conditions.”

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” Kurt laughs, both a little wet and dry.

“It’s probably not what you think,” Blaine laughs back. “They insisted that I continue my education and pull my own weight by finding at least some sort of work. And even though Joy goes to daycare and has the occasional babysitter, they were adamant that I didn’t hire a nanny or rely on someone else to take care of her too often. They didn’t want someone else to raise my child for me, you know? And I totally got that. They haven’t been difficult conditions to agree to.”

“I’m so tired,” Kurt sighs, curling up with a throw pillow. “How are you not completely wiped all of the time?”

Blaine’s smile shifts and changes into something new, and Kurt thinks he sees it again, that hint of absolute devotion. “I have good motivation,” Blaine says. “Everything I do is so that I can provide better for her in the future. And it’s -- it’s _hard_ , Kurt, I’m not denying that. But --” Here, he pauses, expression suddenly guarded, and when he speaks again, he sounds like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I was… in a really dark place when I found out I was pregnant with Joy,” Blaine confesses quietly, looking down at his lap for a moment. “And it was just -- the very _second_ I first held her in my arms, everything changed. And I know that sounds like a cliche, but it’s true,” he says, sounding slightly annoyed. Another pause, and then he’s looking back up, and any walls he’d put up are gone. His expression is open, honest, and it’s in the quietest, most sincere voice that Blaine says, “I named her Joy because that’s how she made me feel.”

_Oh._

_There_ Blaine is.

However much he’s changed, however different he might be, however difficult it might be for Kurt to wrap his head around that Blaine has a child at times, it’s actually that -- the day in, day out representation of Blaine as a parent, as a _father_ that makes Kurt recognize him the most.

And Kurt is so, so beyond falling.

He’s still not quite sure if he’s hit the ground, yet.

“Thank you, again, for today,” Blaine says, clearing his throat a little. “I know it was hard on you, but it means… _so much_ to me that you did this. You -- you really have no idea.” Blaine sounds like he’s trying not to cry, obvious in the way he takes a minute to collect himself before adding, “You’re still my best friend, you know.”

Kurt’s smile cracks open, big and wide, and he has to glance down at his own lap to save himself a little embarrassment. “Yeah, well. I guess I’ve got that going for me. If Joy were my child, I don’t think I’d be half as good of a father as you are.” It’s a compliment -- he means it to be -- but when he looks back up, there’s no trace of happiness in Blaine’s face. He’s gone very quiet and very still, smile gone and eyes looking a little pained. “Did I… say something wrong?”

Blaine shakes his head and drops his gaze. “No, you’re just… being honest. It’s one of the things I like most about you. It’s just kind of… refreshing in a way I wasn’t expecting.”

“Thank you?” Kurt says awkwardly, a little confused.

Blaine sucks in a breath and looks back up at him, smile a little forced. “Sorry, it’s not -- don’t worry about it. You did fine today. Joy said you took really good care of her. It’s just practice, Kurt. Practice and being a parent. I worry about screwing up all of the time -- I always have -- but I have to take the risks anyway. It’s --”

“-- part of being a parent?” Kurt supplies, laughing a little.

“Yeah,” Blaine breathes, relaxing a little. “It’s _really hard_ sometimes, Kurt, but the love I get from her? That makes it all worth it.”

And Kurt thinks about being with Joy today, remembers the way she’s sought (and found -- Kurt has to focus on his accomplishments, because he did do some things right today) comfort in him. He remembers thinking he might have the capacity to love her.

He remembers Blaine giving it to him, all those years ago.

And when Kurt’s voice had been lost, Joy had found it for him.

Maybe soon, he can share that with Blaine again.

Maybe.

* * * * *


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine has always had mixed feelings about holidays. He’d told Kurt, ages ago, that Valentine’s Day was his favorite holiday. At the time, it had made the most sense. He wasn’t particularly close to his family at the time and was searching for a connection elsewhere. It’d taken him a little over a month to realize that he already had it with Kurt. And, as time went on and their relationship had progressed, Christmas took on its own special meaning and appreciation.

After they’d broken up, Blaine didn’t really know what to think of holidays. Christmas while he’d been pregnant with Joy had been a melancholy affair, as had Valentine’s Day. But every holiday since Joy’s birth has been a little bit brighter. Blaine gets to celebrate Father’s Day now. He gets to come up with clever costumes for the pair of them for Halloween. They spend every Thanksgiving and Christmas with family, and getting to watch Joy is probably Blaine’s favorite part. He’s been there for her first big holiday meals and for her first Christmas morning, for her first time watching the parade and her first time helping bake cookies.

This is Joy’s third Christmas, and while she’s not quite three yet, Blaine thinks she’s at an age where she’s starting to remember things. She can associate certain things with the holiday. She knows that Christmastime means snow and bundling up. She knows that it means going to Ohio to see her grandparents. She knows it’s the one time of the year she’s guaranteed to see Uncle Coop. She remembers the cookies and the cranberries and -- for some strange reason -- his father’s green bean casserole. And while she certainly understands the concept of _receiving_ gifts, she definitely understands what it means to give. Blaine usually spends the entire month of December collecting what Joy considers gifts -- a drawing for the refrigerator, an art project from daycare, an extra kiss at night, half of one of her cookies. As she gets older, her ‘gift-giving’ circle expands, and he hadn’t been all that surprised when he’d realized she’d been doing the same thing with her babysitters.

(They’d both received Christmas gifts from Kurt -- a bowtie with candy canes for Blaine and a snowflake-patterned hairbow for Joy. Blaine ended up keeping his years-old promise and bakes Kurt a batch of cookies.

Joy ends up giving Kurt one of the tiny music boxes she owns, and Blaine’s pretty sure Kurt almost cries.)

Now, on Christmas afternoon, Blaine takes a few minutes to enjoy what he has -- warmth and family and coffee and the smell of Christmas all around.

And Joy. Always Joy.

Right now, she’s settled in the living room in green leggings and an off-white long-sleeved top, playing with Cooper. Blaine’s watching her fondly from his spot in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee. His father joins him after a little while, pouring his own mug, and together, they drink in silence, enjoying the solitude and spectacle before the family gets together to start making dinner.

“You were right.”

Blaine can feels his father’s eyes on him. “About Kurt, you mean?” his father guesses.

Blaine nods and takes another sip of his coffee. “He watched Joy for me a couple of weeks ago. And it was fine, but it was just… a lot for him, I think.”

“He’s not ready to do what you do,” his father surmises.

“Probably not,” Blaine sighs. “But it’s not -- I don’t think it’s that he’s ill-equipped. I’m still -- when I knew him before, it never really felt like I was getting to know him. It always felt like I was remembering him from something. And that’s still true, but he’s changed, and I’m still trying to figure those changes out.”

“You still want to tell him.”

“I think I’m going to,” Blaine says slowly. “I just don’t know when, yet.” He glances over at his father when he doesn’t get a response. “You still think it’s a bad idea.”

“I just… think you’re making this about him,” his father says, clearly carefully choosing his words.

“I’m not,” Blaine insists. “Joy comes first -- she always has and she always will. But Kurt has feelings, too, Dad. He’s a person. He matters. And I don’t --” He rubs at the back of his neck, awkward and uncomfortable. “I know you think he’s still selfish, but he’s not. He wanted to be there for Joy. For me. You don’t know him now.”

“You hardly know him now,” his father argues.

“Maybe not as well as I should,” Blaine allows, “but -- I still know parts of him. I’m still learning the new parts. And I -- I never stopped being in love with him, Dad. My feelings didn’t just go away.”

“Even after he hurt you.”

“I hurt him, too, remember?” Blaine reminds him. “Just as much, if not worse. But it didn’t mean that I didn’t love him. I still do.”

“So what,” his father sighs, clearly not in the mood to argue with him, “that’s what you’re hoping to get out of this? You want to be with him again?”

“I’m not even going there,” Blaine says dryly. “I -- look, I love Kurt, okay?” And it’s the first time he’s said it out loud in a long, long time, but it doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. It’s a familiar feeling, one he’s lived with and resigned himself to for years, now. If anything, it comforts him, to remember and articulate something he feels and knows is true. “But I’m not trying to win him back. I’m not even entertaining the idea. I’m not that selfish anymore, Dad.”

“So you think you owe it to him?”

“He deserves to know,” Blaine says quietly. “And Joy deserves a chance to know her other father.”

His father takes a few sips of his coffee before glancing over at him. “Can I offer a suggestion?”

“I’m surprised you’re asking first,” Blaine laughs.

His father rolls his eyes but smiles good-naturedly. “If you’re going to tell Kurt the truth about Joy, don’t wait too long.”

Blaine narrows his eyes in confusion. “First you tell me that you think telling him is a bad idea, then you tell me I should take my time, and now you’re telling me not to wait?”

“I know you, Blaine,” his father sighs, setting his mug down on the counter and turning to face Blaine. “And I get that you’re looking out for Kurt. I know that you care about him. But if you’re going to go through with this, then you should really do it sooner rather than later. The longer you wait, the more it’s likely to cause tension. He’ll wonder why you didn’t say something sooner. And if you really don’t want to hurt him, then telling him sooner is the best way to minimize that.”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably and sets his own mug down next to his father’s. “I’m just…”

“Waiting for the right time?” his father supplies. “I understand why you want to, Blaine, but you have to realize that it doesn’t exist. Waiting for the perfect circumstances is only going to postpone it happening, and that’s not going to help at all.”

Blaine grips the edge of the counter and looks back out toward the living room. “The longer I wait, the more I risk upsetting Kurt, and that could potentially affect Joy. That’s your point.”

“You know I’m right,” his father says gently.

“I know,” Blaine says quietly, looking at the floor. “I just -- I don’t know how to tell him.”

“Whatever ends up happening, just remember that we’re here for you both,” his father reminds him. “And if somehow things work out for the best, if Kurt decides he wants to be with you again and wants to be part of Joy’s life --”

Blaine looks back up at him. “You’d support that?”

His father studies him for a moment. “If it made you both happy, and as long as no one was getting hurt, then yeah, we would. But Blaine? For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a fine job with her.”

Blaine’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

Joy comes running into the kitchen, then, squealing and giggling as Cooper chases her. He’s -- well, Blaine’s not exactly sure what Cooper’s dressed up as, exactly. Or where Cooper got the pieces of that costume. But Cooper’s dressed up as some sort of strange goose-duck-vulture-vampire creature that looks simultaneously terrifying and ridiculous. Joy doesn’t seem all that frightened by it, though, just entertained. She toddles and trips her way over to Blaine, who hoists her up into his arms and barks out a laugh when he realizes that she’s wiggled her way into one of his new cardigans -- a whale-patterned number that his mother gave him for Christmas. “Why are you wearing Daddy’s sweater?” he laughs, tapping her affectionately on her nose.

“Cold,” she whines, snuggling close. Cooper flaps his fake wings and makes an absurd honking sound as he moves in closer, teasing her, and she hides her face against Blaine’s chest, giggling. “Uncle Coop’s silly.”

“ _Very_ silly,” Blaine agrees, stroking her hair. “I’ll tell you what, Coop. Why don’t you shed your feathers and pull out your fangs and we’ll perform one of our Christmas duets from our repertoire for Joy?”

Joy glances up at him, beaming, and that’s all it takes for all of them to be sold on the idea. “Alright, well, if you’re going to be jumping on furniture, take it to the living room,” his mother sighs, joining them.

“I do not jump on furniture any more,” Blaine grumbles.

“No jumping,” Joy recites dutifully.

Blaine’s father laughs. “She is definitely your daughter, Blaine. So well-behaved. Cooper was nothing like you two.”

“How many times do I have to explain that you --”

“-- you can’t contain the emotional tornado,” the entire family choruses, completing Cooper’s sentence.

“Yes, dear, we know,” their mother laughs, patting him on the shoulder before moving to wash her hands in the sink. “You had the broken bones to prove it, especially before your brother was born.”

“I don’t know how you guys did it,” Blaine sighs. “Especially once I got here. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have more than one kid, especially if Joy was like Cooper.”

“Well, neither of you were exactly planned,” their father explains. “We just had to learn to adapt. You did the same thing, Blaine.”

Blaine knows that his dad is right. It’s what he’s done -- what he’s _had_ to do ever since he decided he wanted to keep Joy and raise her himself. He does it because he loves her, and he doesn’t regret it even when it’s hard. He just -- he wonders how Kurt would handle things, if he were in Blaine’s shoes. He’d seemed frazzled after babysitting Joy a couple of weeks ago, and that had been jarring for Blaine. Blaine remembers Kurt’s resilience, how strong Kurt has always been in the face of adversity, how he can adjust and adapt if he absolutely needs to, how he doesn’t compromise who he is or the values he has. Kurt feeling inadequate and inept about taking care of Joy makes Blaine feel uneasy about telling Kurt the truth. It’s not -- Blaine believes in him, still, after all this time. If Kurt wants to be a parent to Joy, Blaine believes that he can do it. He’s just not sure how to convince Kurt of his own potential. It feels foreign to Blaine -- it always has, even when Kurt was feeling less than great about applying to NYADA.

But Blaine has always been there for him when Kurt has needed him the most. Now, it’s Blaine’s job to be here for Joy, and even though it’s been difficult for Kurt, Kurt has tried to be there for them both.

When Kurt has lapsed into silence, Blaine has always encouraged him to use his voice.

Now Blaine just needs to figure out how to use his own again.

“Daddy,” Joy says, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. Blaine draws in a breath and smiles, focusing his attention on his daughter. “Sing.”

* * * * *


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt gets off early on New Year’s Eve, and on the sidewalk outside of the building, he has two choices. He can either go home and change before attending the office party tonight, or…

Or.

Kurt digs in his pocket, unearths his phone, and finds the contact he’s looking for. His call is answered on the third ring. “Hey!” Blaine laughs warmly.

Kurt smiles, unable to help himself. “Hey, are you guys still in Ohio?”

“No, we came back a few days ago,” Blaine reveals. “What about you?”

“Same,” Kurt answers. “Are you, um -- do you have plans tonight? Do you have a babysitter lined up for Joy?”

“Very funny,” Blaine says dryly. “Like I -- go to your room, sweetie. I’ll be there in a minute to put you down for your nap. Like I have the time or desire or disposition to go on some trashy New Year’s date, Kurt. Joy’s pretty much my standing date for all holidays.”

Kurt tries to keep his smile under control. “How do you feel about turning your date with Joy tonight into a group date? We can play some games with Joy, I can cook dinner, we can watch _When Harry Met Sally_ and avoid all of the ridiculous cliches of New York on New Year’s Eve. And, you know, the crowds. And the noise. And the traffic. And the drunks. And --”

“Okay, okay, god, I get the point,” Blaine laughs. “I, um -- yeah, that sounds kind of great, honestly. But only on one condition.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t fade. “Yes, Mr. Anderson?”

“Stay over,” Blaine requests. “If you’re staying here until at least midnight, you shouldn’t be outside that late, especially tonight, at least -- at least alone. Please? It’ll make me feel better.”

Kurt’s stomach does that stupid, _stupid_ flip-flop-twist thing it’s always done when it comes to Blaine. He doesn’t know _why_. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s stayed over at Blaine’s this month. It’s not like they’ll be sharing a bed. Kurt will sleep on the couch again, like he has been.

(He tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s New Year’s Eve, and if he’s with Blaine at the stroke of midnight, he may get a New Year’s kiss.)

“Deal,” Kurt agrees, sighing dramatically. “I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

Kurt hangs up, drops his phone back into his pocket, and makes his choice.

* * * * *

Kurt’s in the kitchen when Joy comes in, giggling, with a towel wrapped around her. “And just _where_ are your pajamas, young lady?”

“In her _bedroom_ ,” Blaine calls down the hall. “Joy, get back here!”

Joy just giggles again and hides her smile behind the towel. She’s so rarely disobedient or mischievous that it surprises Kurt a little. Still, it’s such a minor disobedience, and Kurt isn’t her parent; Blaine is, and if it bothers him that much, Kurt will leave the discipline to him. “Alright, you,” Kurt says, leaning down to pick her up. “Pajama time.” Joy squeals in protest all the way down the hall, squeals interspersed with giggles.

Blaine’s smile at the sight of them lights up his whole face. “Looks like you caught a fish out of water,” Blaine laughs.

“Something like that,” Kurt hums, passing Joy off to Blaine. “She _was_ Melody for Halloween. You were Eric.”

Blaine arches an eyebrow at him as he helps Joy get dressed for bed. “So what, does that make you some variation of a sea witch or something?”

“Mmm, the opposite, really,” Kurt sighs, leaning against the door frame. “I guess I’m Ariel.”

“Lost your voice?” Blaine guesses.

Kurt nods. “For a little while, but I had some help finding it.”

Blaine’s eyes soften a little, and even though Kurt doesn’t elaborate or specify, he thinks that Blaine understands. “Okay, missy,” Blaine announces, turning his attention back to Joy, “story time.” Dutifully, Joy scampers over to her bookshelf and immediately pulls a book out.

Kurt blinks in surprise when she runs over to him and holds it out. “Oh,” he says faintly, smile faltering a little. “I, um --”

“Joy,” Blaine says, quiet but firm. “Bring Daddy the book.” Joy’s face falls a little, but she does as she’s asked. Kurt’s gaze drifts from her to Blaine, and even though Blaine doesn’t say anything else, Kurt can tell that Blaine’s trying to give him an out. It’s confusing, for a second, but then Kurt realizes that Blaine’s doing it because of Kurt’s previous experience with babysitting Joy.

This is ridiculous. Yes, Kurt had been a little… overwhelmed. But he’d handled it -- Joy, she’s a person with feelings -- fairly well. Two hours of being unable to comfort a crying toddler isn’t enough to break him. He doesn’t give up. He doesn’t quit. He can do this. Joy just wants him to read her a book. He’s done that before -- several times. He can _do this_.

He’s just… not entirely sure why is so important that he do this. He doesn’t know why it’s so important that he can handle taking care of Joy. It’s not as if Joy doesn’t like him. She’s warmed to him, if the request to read tonight is any indication. And Kurt likes _her_ \-- he likes the sound of her laugh and her love of books and music. He likes the way she totes around Margaret Thatcher dog and shares her snacks. He loves how tactile and affectionate she is, so much like Blaine.

And her nose. Kurt really likes her nose, for some reason.

It’s just -- if Kurt can do this, if he can take care of Joy, then maybe he can take care of Blaine again, too. If he can take care of Blaine, he’s not the same person he was three years ago. And if he’s not the same person he was three years ago, it means he’s changed, that he’s not as selfish as he was before. And if he’s not as selfish as he was before, then maybe he won’t make the same mistakes. And if he doesn’t make the same mistakes, then maybe Blaine doesn’t make the same mistakes either. And if they don’t make the same mistakes, then maybe they can be _them_ again.

Maybe.

And _there_ it is.

Kurt needs some sort of justification for his feelings concerning Blaine. Feelings that he’s not entirely sure have ever really gone away, if he’s being honest with himself.

“It’s okay,” Kurt says, speaking up and pushing himself off of the door frame. “I can read tonight, if you want.” Blaine still looks like he has reservations, but he doesn’t protest as Kurt settles down on the floor in front of the rocking chair. Joy perks up a little, passing the book off to Kurt, before she snuggles closer against Blaine’s chest. So Kurt reads -- he turns the pages and points to the illustrations and does ridiculous voices. Joy’s interest never wavers, but she does seem to get sleepy toward the end book.

And when he closes the book and sees Joy’s fingers curled possessively into the fabric of Blaine’s cardigan, Kurt thinks his heart might grow three sizes.

“Time for bed,” Blaine says quietly, eyes fixed on Kurt. “Say good night, Joy.” Kurt sets the book aside and rises to his knees, preparing to give her a small hug. Joy shifts a little in Blaine’s arms just as Kurt gets close, though, and he both gives and receives a kiss on the cheek instead. It’s a little startling but not unwelcome, and the smile she hides against Blaine’s chest at the sound of Kurt’s surprised laugh makes Kurt’s heart skip a beat.

Yeah, she’s definitely Blaine’s daughter.

Kurt leaves them alone for a few minutes and retreats to the bathroom across the hall. He hears Blaine singing to her through the closed door -- _Auld Lang Syne_ , appropriately enough -- and spends a few minutes freshening up. When Kurt opens the door again, Blaine doesn’t take notice. So Kurt leans against the doorframe again and watches as Blaine continues to rub Joy’s back for a moment before gently picking her up and setting her down on her mattress. Quietly and carefully, Blaine tucks his sleeping daughter in under the covers and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

God, Kurt has got it _so_ bad.

Blush tinging his cheeks a little, Kurt offers Blaine an embarrassed smile as Blaine quietly shuts Joy’s bedroom door and joins him in the hallway. “Well,” Blaine sighs, “I know Joy ate, but I’m starving. Dinner?”

“Sure,” Kurt agrees amicably.

Together, they make their way into the kitchen and warm up their own plates of food. They’re quiet as they work until Blaine breaks the ice with, “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Don’t,” Kurt says thinly, gripping the edge of the counter. “I -- look, Blaine, I realize that I didn’t exactly leave a good impression when I babysat Joy. But I’m not incompetent. And it’s not like I don’t want to do it, Blaine. I like Joy, I --”

“No, I know, I’m sorry,” Blaine breathes. “You’re right. I just -- I thought --” He huffs, clearly frustrated and a little irritable, but when he turns to look Kurt in the eyes, his expression is clear, trusting. “I _do_ believe in you, Kurt. I just… don’t want you to feel obligated or forced to --”

“I don’t,” Kurt assures him, straightening up and offering him a smile. “Believe me, I don’t feel obligated to be here, with either of you. I -- I’ve missed you,” he admits, glancing down at the kitchen floor. “And I may need an adjustment period before I’m as adept as you are at taking care of Joy -- well, at least babysitting her, anyway -- but I am… _really_ glad that we’re friends again, Blaine.”

He’s gathered up in Blaine’s arms, warm and safe and secure before he knows it. “Me too,” Blaine murmurs into his ear. “Me too.”

* * * * *

They have dinner.

They have dinner and sit through _When Harry Met Sally_ , and then Kurt says probably one of the dumbest things he could possibly say. “There was never anyone else.”

Blaine does look a little surprised when Kurt says it, but all he does is curl up against the back of the couch and ask, “After me, you mean?”

Kurt nods. “I just… needed some time, after we broke up, to heal. And then everything just kind of… spiralled out of control. I didn’t get into NYADA, and then my dad found he had cancer. And then Rachel -- _god_ , Rachel.”

“Whatever happened with Rachel?” Blaine pries curiously.

“What always happens,” Kurt sighs. “She won the winter showcase and started dating this guy -- I don’t know if you remember him, Brody? Anyway, she just… got kind of insufferable for a while. I didn’t really have a whole lot going for me at the time and she could only focus on herself. We kept having these petty little spats after New Year’s, and each one was worse than the last. She invited Brody to move in without asking me, and everything just built and spiralled until just before Valentine’s Day. We got into this _huge_ fight -- yelling and screaming and breaking dishes. It was like getting a divorce.”

“Jesus,” Blaine breathes.

Kurt shrugs, trying to come across as indifferent. He’s not -- he’s not sad about the fact that he’s not friends with Rachel any more, not really. It’s saved him a lot of drama and pain over the years, and he feels like he’d be closer to the worst version of himself if he’d stayed friends with her. “Everything just sort of… happened all at once. Isabelle gave me a promotion -- a real job. I found a place of my own closer to the city. I mean, it was a closet, and I don’t live there anymore, but it was my own place and I didn’t have anyone to answer to. So I moved out and tried moving on.”

“But you couldn’t,” Blaine guesses.

“Not entirely,” Kurt sighs. “It took a few months to adjust, and then my dad got a clean bill of health, which was _wonderful_ after everything that had happened since October, but then…”

“Finn,” Blaine supplies quietly.

“Finn,” Kurt echoes. “After he died, it was like all of the light and music had been sucked out of the world for me. The only good things I had left were my parents and my job and I just… couldn’t bring myself to open up to anyone after that. The risk of getting hurt was too high, and I was barely holding on by a thread as it was. It’s taken me a long time to pick up the pieces of my life after that year.”

“And are you happy, now?” Blaine asks.

Kurt takes a moment to consider the question and mirrors Blaine’s position, curling up against the back of the couch. “I think I’m at a place where I’m opening up to the idea of it again,” Kurt admits, trying not to be too specific. “I -- I don’t sing much, anymore. It was hard, after that year, and it just felt like a part of me that didn’t exist anymore.”

“So earlier, when you said you were Ariel?”

Kurt’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Ariel became a mermaid again to find Melody,” Kurt explains. “She went back to her roots, remembered where she came from, who she really is. When I watched Joy for you earlier this month, I had to sing to her to get her to calm down.”

“She helped you find your voice,” Blaine says, and Kurt knows that he understands.

“I think I understand,” Kurt says. “I understand the way you feel about her, even if I’m not her parent. She’s light in a world of darkness.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says faintly, glancing down at his lap. He’s quiet for a moment before continuing. “For what it’s worth, Kurt, I _am_ sorry for what I did to you. I may have felt neglected and ignored and forgotten about and lonely, but it doesn’t excuse cheating on you. And I --” Another pause, and then Blaine looks up at him with those stupid, honey-golden eyes and Kurt is so, so far gone. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Kurt says thickly. “I believe you. And I… forgive you. I think I forgave you a while ago, actually. A long while ago.”

Blaine smiles, a blush tinging his cheeks, and glances over at the television, clearly looking for a distraction. “The ball’s getting ready to drop,” he observes. “Any last-minute resolutions?”

Kurt follows Blaine’s gaze over to the television, accepting the change of subject. “Sort of? I want -- I want to keep doing what I’ve been trying to do, but I want to put in more of an effort from now on. I want to be less selfish. I want to be more honest. I want -- I want to use my voice, now that I have it again.” He glances back over at Blaine and smiles encouragingly. “What about you?”

“Yours is a good one,” Blaine sighs, looking back at him. “Can I steal yours?”

“We could make it a joint resolution,” Kurt suggests, laughing.

Blaine smiles, but it fades quickly, and his eyes go back down to his lap again. Kurt’s starting to recognize it not as a movement of deception or guarding, but as one of control. Blaine usually has such a penchant for wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Kurt’s been left wondering these past few months what exactly Blaine’s feelings are for him. Kurt thinks that Blaine _might_ return his feelings, but it’s hard to tell, especially at times like this. “After you moved to New York -- before we broke up, after we broke up -- I felt like Rose from _Titanic_. There’s this line she has in the film where she talks about how she feels like she’s standing in the middle of the room screaming at the top of her lungs and _no one_ even looks up. Eventually, I just grew… quiet. I stopped using my voice, too. And Joy helped me find it again.” Eyes up and Kurt can’t look away even if he wanted to. “I know how you feel, Kurt. I really, really do.”

And there it is again, that flicker of hopeful longing in Blaine’s eyes that makes Kurt’s heart skip a beat and his stomach twist and his skin shiver.

Kurt wants to kiss him so _badly_.

And then the ball starts to drop, and Kurt has a ten-second countdown.

And though his heart has very clearly hit the ground, his body hasn’t quite caught up yet, so he can’t move forward the way he wants to. He’s still being held back.

Blaine leans in, Kurt holds his breath, and then Blaine’s lips are on Kurt’s cheek, an echo of Joy’s kiss earlier. “Happy New Year, Kurt.”

Kurt’s breath leaves him all at once. “Happy New Year, Blaine.”

And not long after, in the dark on the couch with tingling skin, familiar words echo and boomerang around in Kurt’s mind.

_I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible._

Fuck, Kurt is so screwed.

* * * * *


	7. Chapter 7

2016 is set to be a big year for Blaine. It’s the start of his last year of undergrad before he starts working to obtain his credential. It’s the year he’ll turn twenty-one. It’s the year Joy will turn three. It’s the year Cooper hopes to be at least nominated for a Daytime Emmy. It’s the year Blaine’s parents will celebrate their thirty-second wedding anniversary.

It’s the year Blaine resolves to use his voice and tell Kurt the truth about Joy.

He’s still working on figuring out exactly how he’s going to do that. He’s still working, and his coursework load is heavier than it’s ever been. He’s a father on top of all of that -- first and foremost. Spending time with Kurt doesn’t even seem like it’s going to be much of a possibility for the entirety of January, but then Kurt Hummel zigs when Blaine thinks he’s going to zag, and that’s not the case at all. Blaine obviously has coursework to keep him occupied after he puts Joy to sleep, and at first, he thinks it’s enough to prevent him from spending any time with Kurt while he adjusts to the new semester. Kurt surprises him by bringing his own work over to keep him occupied while Blaine reads and studies and writes papers. Still, it’s only enough to keep Kurt busy for a little while, but even after that, he doesn’t run out of things to do. He brings his sketchpad and fills the blank pages in with a variety of strokes and shades and silhouettes, humming to fill the silence.

On those nights, Blaine will join him in quiet harmony, and despite his promise to his father -- that he’s not selfish enough to try getting back together with Kurt -- Blaine thinks that there may be something behind the glances and smiles they exchange.

January snowballs into February. February brings Valentine’s Day, and -- just like New Year’s Eve -- Kurt suggests turning Blaine’s standing date with Joy into a group affair. The holiday lands on a Sunday this year, which allows for some flexibility. Blaine briefly freaks out over his attire when he gets dressed in the morning, but in the end, he doesn’t have the time to dwell over his choices, and he can’t dress to impress Kurt. This isn’t a date, and Blaine can’t think about it or treat it like one.

(In the end, he dons a red bowtie and shrugs into the whale-patterned cardigan his mother gave him at Christmas. Kurt’s entire face lights up when Blaine opens the door to him later that morning, and he breezes into the apartment with a kiss to Blaine’s cheek and a laughed “Adorable.” Blaine has to remind himself that this isn’t a date.)

Kurt gifts Joy with a pink hair bow, a sparkling silver heart in the center, and he prepares a fairly elaborate brunch for the three of them. He has plans for a cheesecake later in the evening, but for now, he drizzles an indulgent chocolate-butterscotch sauce over some raspberries. How he managed to find decent raspberries at this time of year, Blaine has no idea, but it’s the perfect treat for Valentine’s Day. Joy takes to them instantly and pops them into her mouth with childish delight. The sugar causes her to be a little more giggly and precocious than she normally is. She presses a rather sticky and chocolatey kiss to Kurt’s cheek, but Kurt takes it in stride and streaks some sauce on her nose in retaliation. He gamely agrees to wash her up and brush her teeth before Blaine tries putting her down for a nap in the afternoon, and the whole exchange plucks almost painfully at Blaine’s heartstrings. It kills him that Kurt thinks he wouldn’t be a good father to Joy because Kurt kind of already _is_ , or he’s at least on his way there. Joy is clearly growing to adore him, and Blaine knows that he’s going to have to tell Kurt the truth sooner rather than later.

He’s running out of time if he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.

Kurt passes Joy off to him for naptime. The sugar in Joy’s system makes it a little harder to get her down. Blaine has to pull a couple of extra songs out of his repertoire to serenade her with, but he doesn’t end up doing it alone. Kurt ends up leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom while Blaine waltzes around the room and rubs her back. Kurt’s smile is warm, fond, and familiar, and it’s all Blaine can do to hide his blush. Kurt harmonizes with him through Thurston Harris' [Little Bitty Pretty One](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8PhP3yIlRw) and The Ronettes’ [Be My Baby](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2g_FD_sYazk). Somehow it’s _that_ \-- the sound of them together -- that get Joy to settle down and fall asleep against Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine turns to the doorway before laying her down to cast an appreciative smile in Kurt’s direction, but all he sees is a look of confused confliction on Kurt’s face just before Kurt walks back toward the front of the apartment. Jarred and a little confused himself, Blaine tucks Joy in under her blankets, making sure she’ll be warm enough. Quietly, he shuts her door behind him and makes his way to the front of the apartment. He finds Kurt in the kitchen, back to Blaine and hands gripping one of the counters. He seems almost… upset, and Blaine wracks his brain to try and figure out what could’ve gone wrong in the last few moments. Tentatively, Blaine enters the kitchen and leans against the adjacent counter, ducking his head a little to try and get a better read on Kurt’s expression. “Kurt?” he ventures carefully. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Kurt rolls his shoulders uncomfortably before turning around and leaning against the counter. “It’s been a long time,” he says quietly, “since we’ve really sung together like that.”

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t really understand? I thought you were happy to be using your voice again.”

Kurt closes his eyes, a pained little smile tightening the corners of his mouth. “I thought things might be different this time. We’re not the same people we used to be. We’re not teenagers anymore, Blaine. But it’s been almost five months and I just -- I can’t help wondering.”

Blaine’s brow wrinkles a little in confusion. “I’m really not following.”

Kurt barks out a laugh, face lighting up a little, and he looks so much his age, so comfortable in his own skin that Blaine can’t not love him. Kurt finally looks up at him, smile a little embarrassed and fond and maybe a tad judgemental. “You and I -- we pretty much only hang out with each other, we’re finally comfortable singing duets together again, we kiss each other on the cheek. You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve like you used to and you have a _daughter_ and sometimes the way you look at me is just --”

“Kurt?” Blaine prompts carefully, ignoring the way his heart has started to pound in his chest. There are bits of Kurt’s speech that are familiar to him, but Blaine can’t assume that it’s intentional. This isn’t a date. He’s not allowed to hope.

Kurt takes a moment to catch his breath, eyes studying Blaine like he’s trying to see through him. Slowly, he pushes himself away from the counter and closes the distance between them. He hesitates for a second before taking one of Blaine’s hands in his own. “That kiss at New Year’s,” he asks, voice low and quiet and barely there, “was I supposed to think that was nothing?”

Kurt leans in a little closer, nose brushing against Blaine’s and eyes fluttering closed, and Blaine can feel Kurt’s breath against his face, his _mouth_. “ _Kurt_ ,” he breathes, forcing himself to keep his eyes open because this isn’t happening, this can’t be happening.

And then Kurt’s mouth is on his for the first time three and a half years, his hand gripping tight at Blaine’s hip. Blaine inhales sharply, arching a little off of the counter and closer to Kurt, and that’s the only resistance he’s capable of before his own eyes are slipping shut and his body relaxes under Kurt’s touch.

Fuck, he’s so, so screwed.

Gently, his fingertips dance along the hollow of Kurt’s throat. Kurt takes the gesture as encouragement and presses Blaine back against the counter hard, exhaling harshly. He drops Blaine’s hand in favor of cupping Blaine’s jaw with his hand, pressing in warm and close and insistent.

Kurt still wants him.

What the hell is Blaine supposed to do now?

Confused and conflicted beyond all belief, Blaine presses a hand to Kurt’s chest and pushes him back slightly, breaking the kiss. “Mmm, wait, wait, wait. What --” He takes a second to catch his breath and almost can’t look Kurt in the eye. “Kurt, I can’t just -- I can’t just _do this_.”

“Why not?” Kurt laughs breathlessly, leaning in again. Again, Blaine applies pressure to Kurt’s chest to keep them apart, and the gesture causes the smile to vanish from Kurt’s face. He looks a little puzzled for a moment until something occurs to him, and all the light drains from his face. “Oh,” he says quietly. “You don’t -- you don’t have feelings for me anymore, do you?”

“ _No_ ,” Blaine breathes. “That’s not -- Kurt, that’s not it at _all_ , believe me.”

Something like hope flickers back into Kurt’s eyes, but he’s still clearly reserved and tentative when he asks, “So what… exactly is the problem here?”

Blaine sighs and tries to relax against the counter. Kurt’s touch is barely there on his body anymore, buzzing and lingering and sparking, but it’s enough to distract him, and Blaine has to rub a hand over his eyes to try and focus. “I’m not allowed to do this,” he groans, frustrated. “I don’t --” Quickly, he drops his hand and looks Kurt dead in the eye. Blaine has to do this. He has to be honest, because not being honest -- lying or withholding the truth or anything in between -- is what led to their downfall before. But it’s not them -- himself -- that he’s thinking of. It’s Joy. “Kurt, I haven’t been in a relationship since I found out I was pregnant with Joy, okay? I haven’t had sex or dated or even so much as thought about flirting with another guy. I _can’t_. I have to --”

“-- put her first,” Kurt supplies for him. He doesn’t sound judgemental or frustrated. He sounds like he understands, and even though it _should_ make Blaine feel better, it doesn’t. He studies Blaine’s face for a moment, clearly thinking, before he says anything else. “I guess I can understand that,” he allows. “But can I just -- can I make an observation?” Blaine waves him on with a sigh, swallowing thickly when Kurt squeezes his hip. “You put Joy first in everything you do, and I don’t -- I would never begrudge you that. But think about all you do for her. Think about everything you’re doing and putting into motion to provide for her in the future. If you don’t take care of yourself at least a little, Blaine, you’re going to burn out before you even get there, and then where does that leave Joy?” Blaine drops his gaze and tries to push his feelings down and away regardless of how much truth there is to Kurt’s words. He has always taken care of other people first, and that has never been more important than with Joy.

Despite the years apart, Kurt still _knows_ him, at least parts of him, and when he hooks his fingers under Blaine’s chin to force eye contact again, Blaine wants nothing more than to just melt into Kurt’s arms and give in. “You asked me, at New Year’s, if I was happy.” A beat, then, so Kurt can move one of Blaine hands over his own heart. “I’m happy,” Kurt admits quietly. “You _make me_ happy -- you and Joy. I haven’t felt like this in a long time and I’m only just now realizing how important it is to let myself _be_ happy. You don’t have to feel guilty about the things you want, Blaine. You can be happy. You can take care of yourself and still take care of Joy.”

Blaine’s mouth twitches into a smile, a warmth flooding his chest, but still, he looks down and demurs, resisting. “This sounds an awful lot like coercion.”

He can hear Kurt’s smile in his voice. “Is it working?”

Blaine bites his lip to hide his smile and looks back up at Kurt. “This… isn’t just about me, Kurt. It’s not about me or you or even us. It can’t be, not with Joy in the picture.” Kurt opens his mouth to either protest or counter the argument, but Blaine shakes his head to deter him. “Just… listen, okay? If you and I -- if we get back together, if I start dating again, it affects her. I have to consider anyone that I might get involved with as a potential father figure for Joy, and that’s just -- that’s the most important thing to me, okay? I can’t pretend like admitting that my feelings for you never really went away will make things easier. I have to consider her in everything that I do -- her well-being, her feelings, her development. And I would never… willingly put that kind of pressure on you,” he says finally.

And there it is.

Because Blaine needs to tell Kurt the truth about Joy, but he also can’t force parenthood on Kurt. And as much as Blaine might want to be with him again, his heart will first and foremost -- always -- be poured into protecting his daughter.

Fuck, when did things get so fucking complicated?

And Kurt, amazingly, incredibly, confusingly, smiles at him. “I get not being able to trust people to not hurt Joy,” Kurt sympathizes. “I don’t take that personally, Blaine. But you just -- you don’t _get it_ , do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… you’re a _dad_ now, Blaine,” Kurt sighs. “It’s a part of you that didn’t exist before, and getting to know it now, getting to _watch you_ be a parent, it’s -- it’s not the only reason I kissed you, Blaine, but it’s what kept me from holding back anymore.”

Blaine wrinkles his nose a little, confused and appreciative all at once. “So… what, you have a thing for me being a dad?”

A blush colors Kurt’s cheeks, and he takes up both of Blaine’s hands with his own, now, clearly trying to anchor and steady himself. “Watching you be a father to Joy, Blaine, it just -- it made me realize just how much you’re capable of loving and protecting someone. And I mean, I knew that, when we were together before, but the love you have for her is so much _more_ than that. And if what you feel for me is even a _fraction_ of what you feel for her, I’d feel… like this,” he breathes, mouth twitching into a smile. “Because being with you, Blaine? Being with Joy? It makes me want to use my voice. It makes me happy.”

And Blaine realizes, then, that Kurt doesn’t have feelings for him in spite of Joy. Kurt has feelings for him _because of her_.

Heart practically beating out of his chest, Blaine drops his own gaze to their hands and tries not to cry. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he admits softly.

“You can’t screw up if you don’t even try,” Kurt points out gently. Blaine barks out a dry laugh and chances a glance back up at him. “I am… _tired_ of not trying, Blaine,” Kurt sighs. “For the first time in a long time, I want to try.” A beat, and then, “Do you?”

And _oh_ , how Blaine recognizes that feeling. He felt like he’d all but given up on the old version of himself after they’d broken up. He wasn’t the same person, not anymore. He couldn’t raise the child he was carrying. He couldn’t want or expect the same things for himself anymore. He didn’t have it in him. All that was left for him was a clean slate.

And then Joy had been born, and Blaine had held her in his arms, and the world had seemed so different. _He_ had seemed so different. Holding Joy -- deciding to keep her and be a father to her -- was like open up a whole world of possibilities. Maybe Blaine could do this. Maybe he could be a parent. Maybe he could still be himself. Maybe he could grow up. Maybe he could use his education to make a good life for her. Maybe there was still some value in him.

Joy made him want to try.

His family -- his parents, namely -- but his whole family had been surprisingly supportive about his desire and decision to keep her and raise her mostly (sort of) on his own. Their support has enabled Blaine to want to keep trying. And the thing is that before, Blaine had always felt like Kurt was like family to him. Blaine realizes now that Kurt is making moves to do the same things for him and Joy that their family has been doing all along. Kurt’s _been_ trying to do that for months, whether or not it’s been conscious or intentional. Kurt has done so much more than just tolerate or accept Joy’s place in Blaine’s life. He _embraces_ it, embraces her. Fuck, he’s even turned Blaine’s standing holiday dates with Joy into group dates, and only now does Blaine realize that it’s okay if he thinks of them as dates, because maybe Kurt has meant for them to be that way. Maybe Kurt has more of a handle on the situation than Blaine thinks he does. Maybe everything will work out okay, in the end.

This is their chance to be a family.

And for the first time in a long time, Blaine _lets_ himself be okay with the his feelings for Kurt. “Yeah,” he admits truthfully. “I do.”

Kurt takes a deep breath to steady himself, in and out, and the smile that settles onto his face is full of warmth and content. He squeezes Blaine’s hands briefly before dropping them to hold Blaine’s head in his hands. “Can I kiss you again?” Blaine lets out a breathless laugh and nods, not trusting himself to speak right now. Kurt leans in and kisses him, soft and slow but sure and steady. Blaine breathes in and anchors a hand on Kurt’s wrist, and just like that, he’s a _goner_. “Hey,” Kurt says gently, pulling back a little and using his thumbs to wipe at Blaine’s face. “Why are you crying?”

Blaine feels a little ridiculous but also can’t quite find it in him to care enough. “I’m fine,” he laughs wetly. “I just -- I never let myself entertain the idea that this could happen again.”

“Me or anyone?”

“You,” Blaine says warmly, sniffing a little to try and regain some of his composure. “And it’s not -- you’re right, about us being different people now. I don’t quite need you like I did before. But I’m really, really glad to have you again.” Kurt’s smile warms, and he leans in for another kiss but Blaine shifts his head a little, denying him. “Joy --”

“She’s asleep,” Kurt reminds him, the words coming out somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“It’s not that.” Blaine straightens a little but tries to stay relaxed. Kurt _did_ have a point, earlier, about Blaine needing to take care of himself a little. As long as Blaine has this -- has Kurt -- he wants to try using it to his advantage. It’s comfortable here, in Kurt’s arms, and for the first time in a long time, Blaine lets himself find comfort and refuge for himself. “I meant what I said about everything affecting her. She adores you and I’m not worried about you being around at all, but it’s a big leap from where we’re at now to father figure. And I don’t -- it’s not like I expect that from you right now or anything. I’m just saying that it’s something that’s potentially going to happen in the future, and we can deal with it then. But in the meantime, maybe we should take things a little slow? Or at least be a little more aware and careful around her? I don’t want to give her reason to ask questions if we’re not prepared to answer them yet. Does that -- I mean, does any of that make sense? Is that okay?”

Kurt nods and presses in close again. “You’re her father,” he reasons. “I’ll follow your lead on this one.”

And again, every fiber of Blaine’s being is _screaming_ at him to say something, to just tell Kurt the truth already.

And then Kurt’s lips find his again, and the truth dies in Blaine’s throat.

 _Soon_ , he promises himself as he wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist. _Soon._

* * * * *


	8. Chapter 8

Kurt spends his days smiling and feels seventeen all over again.

He also feels like an idiot, but he figures that comes with the territory.

He makes it two weeks before Isabelle finally says something. She approaches his desk and daintily presses her finger against the back of his laptop screen, pushing forward at a snail’s pace to give him fair warning that she’s going to close it. Quickly, Kurt clicks ‘save’ and snatches his fingers away as his boss shuts his laptop with a definitive _click_. Flustered and caught unfocused, Kurt carefully lifts his eyes to look at her and meets her raised eyebrow with one of his own. “We’re going to dinner,” she declares. “My treat. Pack up your things and grab your coat,” she instructs, hand gesturing at his work space. Silently, Kurt obeys and shrugs into his coat, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and picking up the box he’d retrieved from the quaint little bakery in the Village earlier in the day.

Isabelle takes him to their usual place and lets him order before she says much else, and when she does, all she says is, “Spill.” And the thing is, Kurt doesn’t particularly feel like playing the denying game. He knows what she’s talking about, and she knows that he knows. And to be honest, Kurt kind of… wants to tell her. He doesn’t really have anyone he can talk to about what’s been going on in his life outside of his dad, and while Kurt loves his dad, it’s just… different. Isabelle has played mentor and fairy godmother to him, yes, but she’s also been his friend. And if he’s being honest with himself, she is the only friend he’s had for the last three years -- at least, until Blaine had come back into the picture.

So he talks. He backtracks to the previous fall and tells her their story: redux. By the time he gets to New Year’s in his saga, he’s fighting a warm smile at the thought of Joy, because this is what he does with her. He tells her stories in the most animated fashion possible, and not for the first time, Kurt finds himself grateful that this inconspicuous little girl helped him find his voice again.

Isabelle is, as always, the perfect audience. She pays attention and asks good questions and gasps in all the right places, but she’s unnervingly quiet by the time he’s caught her up to where he is in the present -- wrapped up in Blaine to the point where he doesn’t even remember where he left off in his current article. Throat suddenly dry, Kurt takes a long drink of his water and toys with the napkin in his lap, unable to look her in the eye anymore. “I guess I just -- I never thought I’d say this, but I think it was probably a good thing that we broke up for a while.”

“How so?” Isabelle inquires.

Kurt shrugs a little, a blush coloring his cheeks, and still, he can’t meet her gaze. “If we hadn’t, he wouldn’t have Joy, and she’s played a huge part in who he’s become. I guess I just… I don’t know, Isabelle,” he sighs. “It’s not that I didn’t like who he was, before. He’s still that person, in some ways. But he’s so different now. He’s an adult. He has all of this responsibility and it makes him kind of…”

“Deeply attractive?” Isabelle supplies, a hint of teasing in her voice.

Kurt looks up at her, finally, schooling his expression into something between annoyance and amusement. “Among other things,” he admits. “Maybe he’d still be like this, but he’d be different. The person Joy’s shaped him into -- I feel like this is the person he was meant to grow into, Isabelle.”

Isabelle hesitates for a moment before venturing, “And do you feel like the same is true for you? Do you feel like following his lead and possibly taking on the responsibility of being a parent -- do you feel like that’s the person you’re meant to grow into, Kurt?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Kurt sighs, relaxing in his chair and dropping his napkin onto the table. “But I feel like -- I feel like the world is full of opportunity again. Blaine is resilient and Joy has her whole life ahead of her, and if the world is full of opportunities for them, then maybe it still has opportunities waiting for me, too.”

There’s an odd, sad sort of warmth in Isabelle’s eyes after he says that, and she takes a minute to look down at her lap before speaking again. “Can I ask you something -- not as your boss?”

“I didn’t figure this was exactly a business meeting,” Kut laughs.

It’s Isabelle’s turn to relax against the back of her chair, and she studies Kurt so critically that he almost feels like one of his own pieces of work, scrutinized and waiting to be picked apart. She’s not his boss here, not tonight, but the look on her face makes him feel like she is. “Is this what you want to be doing for the rest of your life, Kurt? Writing for the website? It’s fine if it is, but --”

“Oh,” Kurt says faintly, brow wrinkling a little in concentration. “I, um -- I don’t know how to answer that, honestly. I mean, it was never my plan to begin with, Isabelle, you know that. I just sort of fell into an opportunity that presented itself because --”

“-- because things with your old roommate went south, I remember,” Isabelle reminds him. “It just… sounds like you might want something else, now.”

“Maybe,” Kurt admits quietly, toying with one of the buttons on his coat. “I’m not sure if I know what it is just yet.”

“That’s okay,” Isabelle says kindly, and Kurt can’t help but smile at her. He’s not the same person she first met all those years ago -- nineteen and new to the city and inexperienced. But there are times -- like now -- when she makes him feel as though he is all over again, a little lost and needing a fairy godmother’s guidance. “If you need some help with direction or getting some doors opened, I’m happy to help you. But honestly? I’m just happy that you’re finally doing something for yourself, Kurt. Giving you the column was never meant to last you forever.”

Kurt knows what she means even if she doesn’t outright say it -- his job is a safety net, and it’s up to him if he decides to use it or not. He thinks back to December -- when he’s been half-aware that he was falling -- and wonders if he would’ve been half so bold if he didn’t have Isabelle’s wings to carry him. And then he remembers that when he needed to spread his wings, before, when he was young and more prone to taking risks, Blaine was always the one to make sure he could.

Kurt hasn’t flown in a long, long time.

Maybe this -- getting his voice back and taking a leap without a guaranteed safety net -- is all a precursor to taking flight.

Maybe Kurt is finally getting ready to grow into the person he’s supposed to be.

He’s still trying to figure out who that is, exactly.

He feels like a cliche -- approaching twenty-three and trying to _find himself_ \-- but again, he feels like it comes with the territory.

Isabelle doesn’t push him past that, though, something Kurt finds himself grateful for. He pushes himself to his feet and stretches as Isabelle finishes signing the bill. Coat back on, messenger bag off of the chair, and --

The box from the bakery.

Blaine.

_Fuck._

Kurt plunges his hand into his pocket, scrambling for his phone. He has no memory of taking it off of silent after they left the office, and his sense of dread is validated when he unlocks the screen and sees multiple missed texts and calls from Blaine. Flustered and feeling guilty, Kurt grabs the box and mumbles an apology to Isabelle and rushes outside. He’s not all that far from Blaine’s apartment, but at this point, he figures it’ll be marginally faster to take a cab instead of walking, especially considering the hour and how dark it is.

In the hallway outside of Blaine’s apartment, Kurt takes an extra minute to unearth the cupcake from the box and stick a candle in it, using the lighter he’d snagged from the drugstore earlier to light the candle. Cupcake poised at the tips of his fingers as an offer, Kurt draws in a breath and knocks on Blaine’s door with his free hand.

Blaine’s face doesn’t hide his disappointment at all when the door is opened.

“Happy Birthday?” Kurt ventures tentatively.

Blaine sighs and steps to the side to let Kurt in. Kurt squirms uncomfortably as Blaine shuts the door behind him, and he feels so _bad_ about being so late that he can’t really do much more than follow Blaine to the couch. Quietly, Kurt sets his things down next to the couch and perches the cupcake on the coffee table in front of Blaine. Blaine stares at it for a few seconds before closing his eyes, and once he’s done presumably making his wish, he leans forward and blows the flame out. Still, he doesn’t reach for the confection; he just leans against the back of the couch and doesn’t meet Kurt’s eyes, shoulders sagging a little. “Isabelle took me to dinner,” Kurt offers quietly. Blaine doesn’t say anything, so Kurt slumps against the couch with a sigh. “Are you really that angry with me?”

“I’m not angry,” Blaine says without heat, and he doesn’t _sound_ angry, but…

“Are you upset?”

“No,” Blaine sighs. “I’m not upset, Kurt. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve chosen Isabelle over me.”

Kurt narrows his eyes and exhales slowly, trying not to immediately jump to anger and defensiveness. “Is that really what this is about?” he asks thinly. “Or is this one of those things where you bottle everything up until I try pulling it out of you like extracting teeth and then you explode about something insignificant that’s not even what’s really bothering you? Because I really don’t want to do the whole passive-aggressive thing with you again, Blaine. I really thought we’d both matured past that --”

“I’m not angry,” Blaine reiterates, sounding tired. “I’m not upset, either.”

Kurt just barely keeps from rolling his eyes. “Either,” he echoes. “Okay, you’re not angry. You’re not upset. But you’re _something_ , Blaine. What -- disappointed?” Blaine closes his eyes again for a second, jaw working a little, before he opens his eyes again and reaches for the cupcake on the table, dipping his finger into the frosting. It’s the only tell he gives but it’s enough for Kurt, because he still _knows_ Blaine, knows his habits and reactions and the way he processes things. Kurt knows how hard it is to break out of old habits because even though Blaine is slipping into some right now, Kurt isn’t exactly innocent. He’s getting short because he wants to be defensive, and that makes him prone to being offensive and maybe a little mean.

He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t -- he’s not a teenager anymore. He’s not the person who gets attacked without reason. He’s not the person who goes on the offensive because it’s the best defense he has. He’s not -- he’s not _Rachel_. He’s not selfish.

Okay, he’s still selfish. But he’s _less_ selfish, a distinction he thinks is important. And regardless of whether or not Blaine’s upset about Kurt going to dinner with Isabelle or being late or something else entirely, Kurt at least owes it to him to explain why he’d gone, why he’d ‘chosen her’. Kurt takes a deep breath to steady himself and tries to keep his voice level. “I’ve been distracted the last couple of weeks,” he explains as Blaine licks frosting off of his finger. “Isabelle noticed. She wanted me to talk to her about it -- about _you_. And okay, I get how this might seem a little, I don’t know, _Devil Wears Prada_ , but --”

“Nate and Andy didn’t have a kid, Kurt,” Blaine snaps. He tenses almost as soon as Kurt does, looking both a little panicked and guilty. Carefully, Blaine sets the cupcake back down on the table before settling back, resting his elbows on his knees. And still, he won’t look Kurt in the eye. “Kurt --”

“This is about Joy?” Kurt asks.

“ _Everything_ is about Joy,” Blaine says, breath coming out all at once. “This is my _life_ now, Kurt. _She_ is my life now. I thought you understood that.”

“I do,” Kurt says carefully. “But I just -- I don’t understand. Was I suddenly taking time away from her? Was she waiting up for me or something before you put her to bed?”

“No,” Blaine sighs, clearly frustrated. He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms and takes a second to breathe before saying anything else. “She didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Then what exactly is the problem here?” Kurt asks slowly. “Why are you disap --” Kurt shuts his mouth abruptly and gives Blaine a once over, narrowing his eyes. He remembers, then, what Blaine had said to him over Valentine’s, how anyone he gets involved with is under automatic consideration as a potential parental figure to her. “Are you disappointed on her behalf?” Kurt asks, trying not to get upset. “Is this -- do you think that because I was late tonight and wasn’t here for you that I can’t be there for her, either?” Silence, absolutely nothing but silence, and it’s all the lack of answer Kurt needs to _let himself_ get a little indignant and outraged and upset and yes, maybe a little angry. “Is this some sort of twisted test to see if I’m parent material, Blaine? Because we’ve only been back together for two weeks and _you’re_ the one who wanted to take things slow, especially when it came to Joy.” Blaine exhales slowly, still not looking at him, and his lack of response propels Kurt to his feet, pacing the floor near the couch. “Do you even realize how colossally _unfair_ that is to me? To her? To us? I just don’t understand how you can think that, after everything I’ve --”

“Kurt,” Blaine says gently, catching hold of Kurt’s hand as he paces by. Kurt looks down sharply at where their hands are joined before looking up to meet Blaine’s eyes and _oh_. Blaine’s stupid honey-golden eyes immediately cut through some of the anger, and while Kurt manages to keep his expression schooled into something guarded and indignant, his hand relaxes in Blaine’s grasp. “Kurt, please, just… sit down, okay? And lower your voice? Joy’s been asleep for over an hour.”

Kurt tries to relax his jaw and shoulders, exhaling slowly. He can do this. He can calmly have an argument with his boyfriend -- with _Blaine_ \-- without it turning into a thing. Kurt is not a teenager anymore. He may not have totally gotten rid of his temper, but it’s mellowed out a lot. He can listen and be fair and not fly off the handle. He can stand up for himself and he can make concessions when it’s necessary. Kurt is an _adult_ \-- _Blaine_ is an adult. They can handle this like adults.

This doesn’t have to end the way it did with Rachel.

This doesn’t have to end the way it did last time.

This doesn’t have to end at all.

Kurt doesn’t want it to.

He’d been a little frightened, the first time around, by how much he’d wanted Blaine, how much he loved Blaine. He figures that’s why it hurt so much when Blaine had confessed to cheating. The person he’d loved most in the world had completely _broken_ his heart. The thing is, though, that Kurt’s been realizing the last few months that his feelings for Blaine -- his affection, his desire, his love -- have never gone away, not really. And while Blaine has found a place to put his love -- Joy -- Kurt has had to hold onto it and keep it tucked away. Since running into Blaine last fall, Kurt has gotten to witness how Joy has healed Blaine’s broken heart. In a strange, domino sort of way, Kurt almost feels like she’s been helping to heal his own, too. Seeing Blaine (and Joy) happy has made Kurt happy again, has made Kurt _hope_ again, and it’s that -- the simple knowledge that he is still growing and changing and wanting better -- that makes him realize that maybe he’s not quite as selfish as he (or Blaine) might think he is.

Right now, the way to prove that to Blaine is to give him the chance that Kurt had wanted earlier -- an opportunity to explain. Softening, Kurt sinks back down on the couch next to Blaine and exhales slowly. Blaine adjusts his grip on Kurt’s hand but doesn’t let go, and again, Kurt’s eyes drift to where they’re touching, hands clasped together, quiet and anchored and sure. He feels warmth in his eyes and a smile tugging at his mouth and lets himself enjoy it. This, at least, has always felt safe, sure, right. With Blaine’s hand in his, Kurt feels like he can take on the world.

And slowly, Kurt lifts his eyes to meet Blaine’s again, heart skipping a beat.

He’s in love.

He’s in _love_ , he always has been, he never stopped. He loves the old Blaine and the new Blaine and the Blaine he hasn’t quite figured out. He _loves_ Blaine, and the words get caught up with the air in his chest and he can hardly breathe and his heart is pounding and _oh_ , he’d almost forgotten how good it feels to be in love.

“Kurt?”

Kurt inhales sharply and tries to refocus, blushing at being caught off guard and unfocused for the second time that day. Stupid, perfectly imperfect boyfriend. “Sorry, I swear I’m listening now.”

Blaine studies him a moment, almost like he doesn’t believe it, but he doesn’t question Kurt’s attention again. “I said that I’m prefacing this with the disclaimer that this isn’t always going to happen. I’m doing it now because it’s the right thing to do, but I’m not always going to. I’m not always going to be the one to do it first and I’m not necessarily going to be the one to do it to keep the peace or to make up. I want to be clear about that.”

Kurt wrinkles his brow in confusion. “Clear about what, exactly?”

Blaine draws in a deep breath to relax his shoulders a little, and his grip on Kurt’s hand is only more sure when he says, “You’re right. That’s exactly what I was doing, and it’s wrong of me to do it. It’s not fair to you. I’m sorry.”

Kurt blinks at him for a second before he finally realizes what Blaine’s whole speech had been about -- apologizing. And then he stops to think about -- _really_ think about what all Blaine had said, what it really means. Kurt likes to be in control -- he always has. It’s who he is, and often, it’s just what he needs. One of the things he loved about Blaine, before, was Blaine’s willingness to bend over backward just to make Kurt happy, to get Kurt the things that he wanted and to make Kurt feel like he was in control. Kurt loved him for his overly-devoted heart. Now, Kurt doesn’t have that -- Joy does. But Kurt knows that it’s _possible_ to have it, and he knows that Blaine is the one with the control over himself now, the one who calls the shots. Blaine is asserting himself while leaving room for error, and for some reason, Kurt finds that weirdly, inexplicably _hot_.

“Kurt?” Blaine prompts again, sounding a little exasperated.

“I _swear_ I’m listening,” Kurt huffs, trying to collect himself. “I just got a little… distracted.”

“Distracted,” Blaine deadpans, clearly not a fan of the word in the context of the conversation.

“Yeah,” Kurt sighs, eyes drifting over Blaine’s figure. “Just a little… distracted.”

“Kurt, this is important,” Blaine sighs.

“I know, I know,” Kurt promises, forcing himself to focus. He shifts on the couch, moving closer until their knees are touching. He uses his free hand to gently cradle Blaine’s jaw, and he doesn’t look away when he says, “And now it’s my turn to apologize. _I’m_ sorry, okay? I’m sorry for spacing out. I’m sorry for being late. I’m sorry for flying off the handle like that. I don’t -- I don’t want to leave that impression on you, okay? I know we can’t get a clean slate, not with our history, but we can have a fresh start. We can both try to do better, to do the right thing.”

Blaine swallows audibly, and his voice is barely above a whisper. “Kurt, I want to. I _want_ to do the right thing. You really have no idea.”

“You are,” Kurt reassures him. He uses his thumb to stroke up over the apple of Blaine’s cheek before finally dropping his hand. “And even when you’re not, you’re at least trying. I mean, okay, you’re a little… intense when it comes to looking out for your daughter, but that’s not exactly a bad thing. We’re trying, Blaine, both of us, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? We’re trying and we’re fair and we’re honest with each other?”

Blaine closes his eyes, and Kurt is suddenly hyper-aware of everything about him. Blaine’s lip is trembling and his hand in shaking in Kurt’s and there are tears on his eyelashes. He doesn’t -- Kurt doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong, at least not now. But he thinks that Blaine may still be adjusting to the new dynamics of their relationship. Fuck, even Kurt is still trying to adjust. But Kurt also thinks it might be a little harder on Blaine purely because he has Joy (and maybe, the back of Kurt’s mind provides, Blaine is so afraid of screwing up because he’d screwed up so badly before). “Kurt,” Blaine breathes, and _oh_ , Kurt can hear it in Blaine’s voice, just how close he is to tears.

“Hey,” Kurt says gently, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Blaine’s eye. “We’re okay, aren’t we? You and me?” Blaine nods, just barely, cheek brushing against Kurt’s. Kurt closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself enjoy the intimacy, before he remembers. “So,” he says, pulling back a little and trying to keep his voice light, “if we’re okay, can we actually celebrate a little? I still haven’t given you your gift.”

“Oh, um, yeah, sure,” Blaine agrees, clearing his throat. He wipes a little at his eyes, clearly trying to pull himself together. Kurt gives him the minute he needs and goes digging in his messenger bag for Blaine’s birthday present. Blaine’s face is a little more composed when Kurt settles down next to him again, somehow both open and guarded all at once. Kurt offers him a hopeful smile and hands the box over. Blaine opens it in silence, but his eyes warm and his face lights up with a smile when he sees [what’s inside](http://www.jacquelinesanchez.com/You-Puzzle-Me-Cuff-Links/Jacqueline-Sanchez-YPM-4.asp). “Katy Perry?” he asks, clearly trying not to laugh. “I know you’re not a big fan.”

“No, but you are,” Kurt says simply. “Or at least -- you were. But they come as a set and I was going for the symbolism of it all, I guess. Together, they’re... sort of how I feel, when I’m with you,” Kurt admits sheepishly. “And without you, it’s like -- it’s just me against the entire world and I’m completely unequipped to handle everything that’s in front of me. There’s still a piece that’s incomplete without you.” Blaine inhales a little sharply at that, tears springing back into his eyes, and Kurt acts before he thinks, setting the box aside and slipping his hands into Blaine’s. “When we got back together, you said that you didn’t need me, not like you did before.” Eyes down, and Kurt takes a breath to steady himself. “I think… I was afraid to _let_ myself need you when we were together before. But --” Eyes up and all Kurt wants to do is kiss him. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

Blaine exhales heavily and leans forward to rest his forehead on Kurt’s shoulder. “I wish this were easier,” he mumbles.

Kurt moves one of his hands so he can rub soothingly at Blaine’s back. “I think it will be, eventually. We just need to give it some time.”


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt needs time. That much, at least, is clear to Blaine. He’d fallen into evaluating Kurt as a father before it was even really fair. Blaine realizes, now, that if this is going to work -- if they’re going to be a family -- then he has to make sure that his relationship with Kurt is strong enough to withstand it. Kurt _needs_ him, and Blaine can’t move forward until Kurt is ready. And Kurt had been right -- one mistake isn’t enough to completely ruin Blaine’s perception of him.

(Blaine tries not to think about the fact that it only took one mistake for Kurt’s perception of Blaine to change radically.)

The thing is, it’s hard for Blaine to evaluate how strong their relationship is at any given time without testing _something_. He can’t just ask and take Kurt’s answer at face value. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Kurt or believe him or that Kurt’s words aren’t enough. Kurt had been the one stressing that they could make this work as long as they were honest with each other (and Blaine tries to ignore how much it stings, even now, because while he’s not lying, he’s not telling the whole truth, either). It’s just -- actions speak louder than words. It’s one thing to say that their relationship is strong and that Kurt doesn’t need more time before Blaine tells him the truth. It’s another for it to actually happen and end well.

Deep down, Blaine is still afraid.

He’s afraid for Joy, mostly, even though he thinks he knows that Kurt wouldn’t hurt her, at least not intentionally. But there’s a small part of him that’s a little afraid for himself, too. He and Kurt had always felt safe with each other, before. Blaine thinks they may be well on their way to feeling the same way again, if they’re not already sort of there. Kurt seems willing and eager to prove himself in much the same way that Blaine has always felt and tried to do. He can’t do it unless Blaine gives him opportunities, though. Blaine is trying to take care of himself at least a little, at Kurt’s insistence, because a better self makes a better parent for Joy. But Blaine knows that there will be times he’ll feel like he needs help, and if he’s trying to better himself -- if he’s trying to strengthen their relationship -- then he needs to make sure that Kurt is capable of supporting him.

It’s not testing Kurt. It’s not. It’s… giving Kurt the opportunity he asked for.

(Despite Kurt’s promise that it would just take time for them to find their footing again, Blaine thinks that things are just going to get harder before they get easier.)

They don’t see each other for over a week, though. Kurt starts a new project at work that he sounds relatively excited about. He’s busy, too busy to actually come and spend any time with Blaine and Joy or meet them somewhere. But he’s not too busy to keep in touch, and Blaine’s days are filled instead with Kurt’s apologies and text messages that make him laugh and phone calls just before bed, Kurt’s soft voice filling his ears and making him feel warm all the way down to his toes.

It’s such a striking difference from how their relationship had been when Kurt had first moved to New York and started working for Isabelle, and Blaine is reminded, again, that they’re different people now. Just because they have a history to build upon doesn’t mean they’re picking up where they left off -- not exactly, anyway. Although, Blaine supposes they are sort of picking up where they left off, in a way. They’re just making adjustments and improvements along the way. It’s different now, too, because they have school and work and Joy between them to keep them occupied.

But in a lot of ways, there are things that feel the same, and the time apart makes Blaine anxious and uncomfortable in ways he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. Kurt is communicative, now, still tethered to Blaine, and it’s better than before. And Blaine is supportive of this new endeavor for Kurt -- he _is_. He just… wants to be supported, too. He had so much to give, before. He has so much less, now, because most of what he has he gives to Joy. And while he definitely wanted something in return back then, he _needs_ it now.

Kurt has always been his anchor, and Blaine has to make sure he stays, this time -- for Joy.

(And maybe a little for himself, too. Just a little.)

But Blaine is older, now, and with his age and his responsibility for Joy has come a lot more patience than he used to have. So when Kurt finally _does_ have time to see him on a surprisingly slow, quiet Wednesday night in early March over an hour after Joy’s gone to sleep, Blaine is willing to make them both a cup of tea and listen to Kurt recount the saga of his new work adventures over the last week or so. Blaine would rather let Kurt get everything out of his system now, at the beginning of their time together tonight, so that Blaine can have Kurt’s full attention later.

(And if Blaine uses one of his toys to masturbate after he’s put Joy to bed but before Kurt arrives, well. That’s just making sure he doesn’t let himself get distracted while Kurt’s around.)

Kurt regales him with the tale of how Isabelle had approached him about reviving their old, previously shelved idea of doing a makeover series for the website. Blaine sips and smiles over the rim of his cup of tea. He bites back what he wants to ask -- if the old project has brought up old feelings about Rachel -- and feels a spark of happiness that Kurt is _excited_ about something for the first time in a long time.

This Kurt is a Kurt that Blaine recognizes. It’s the Kurt he fell in love with. It’s the Kurt he’s _still_ in love with, and met with Kurt’s bright eyes and flushed cheeks, Blaine lets himself be okay with being in love.

Kurt, in turn, drains his mug between long-winded and breathless explanations, and when he’s finally finished both his story and his drink, he sets the mug on the counter and smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry,” he laughs. “You know how I get when I get excited about something. I tend to ramble.”

Blaine sets his own mug down on the counter next to Kurt’s and closes the distance between them, wrapping his hands around to the small of Kurt’s back. “I think it’s adorable,” he says, bemused and a little teasing. “I think _you’re_ adorable.” Kurt groans as he drops his head to Blaine’s shoulder. His groan turns into a wry chuckle, and as he curls in a little closer, Blaine closes his eyes and takes a minute to revel in Kurt’s warmth -- the proximity, the pure physicality of him. It sends a phantom pulse of pleasure through Blaine’s body, reminding him of his alone time earlier and how he’s still a little wet. Even though it’s brief and barely there, it’s enough to shock Blaine back into his own skin. “Actually, this comes at a really good time,” Blaine says, clearing his throat and opening his eyes. Kurt _hmms_ against his shoulder in question. “I could use your fashion advice right now. I’ve got a couple of interviews coming up for summer work. Would you be up for helping me pick out some potential outfits?”

Kurt lifts his head and offers Blaine a tired smile. “Sure,” he sighs.

Blaine studies him a little critically. “You don’t… have to,” he says slowly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought -- this is normally your thing. You used to love to do it.”

“I still do,” Kurt assures him, rubbing soothingly at Blaine’s hoodie-clad arm. “I think my brain’s just kind of fried from trying to get this whole thing set up. It’s pretty much all I think about lately. But for you,” Kurt hums, gaze drifting to where his thumb is caressing Blaine’s clavicle through the material of his hoodie and t-shirt, “I will always make an exception.”

Blaine smiles and leans in to give him a quick, warm thank you kiss. He squeezes Kurt’s hands briefly before walking toward the hallway. He pauses just in the entryway to the kitchen, though, and glances over his shoulder when he realizes that Kurt isn’t following him. “Kurt?” he prompts. Slowly, Kurt lifts his gaze up to Blaine’s eyes, a blush forming on his cheeks, and it takes Blaine a second to realize that Kurt was looking at his ass. And -- okay, admittedly, these are probably some of Blaine’s smaller and tighter sweatpants. They hug the curve of his ass fairly well, so he doesn’t exactly blame Kurt for looking, but he needs Kurt’s focus elsewhere right now. “While your ogling is appreciated, I do actually need your help,” Blaine laughs. Kurt bites his lip but doesn’t comment, and hands clasped together, they make their way down the hall to Blaine’s bedroom.

Kurt’s compliance doesn’t last very long, though. Blaine opens his closet doors wide and starts to discuss and explain possible options. Kurt listens -- or at least, Blaine thinks he’s listening. It’s kind of hard to tell, what with the way Kurt has pressed himself right up behind Blaine and curled his arms around Blaine’s waist, chin resting heavily on Blaine’s shoulder. He makes noises and murmurs of assent and understanding as Blaine talks, but the longer Blaine goes on, the less Kurt seems to be paying attention. Eventually, he angles his head and starts to press and suck warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses to Blaine’s neck that feel -- _oh_ \-- really good. Kurt’s lips covering Blaine’s skin is like being underwater, like some sort of strange, muted electrocution. Hands on Blaine’s waist, breath hot and heavy in Blaine’s ear, lips trailing down Blaine’s neck to his shoulder, the ache of arousal between Blaine’s legs -- it’s all incredibly distracting, and Blaine’s sure he makes a few pleased noises, but it’s also incredibly _frustrating_ because he needs this, needs Kurt’s focus and attention and care on the task at hand. “Kurt,” he sighs, pulling his neck out of the reach of Kurt’s mouth and turning his head to face him. “Can you _please_ focus?”

It comes out a little sharper and more annoyed than Blaine had really wanted it to, and Kurt notices. He pulls back a little, clearly studying Blaine. Blaine can see his mind working behind his eyes, and it’s with a little hesitation that Kurt asks, “It’s… _really_ important to you that I help you with this, isn’t it?” Blaine drops his gaze to the floor, unable to look Kurt in the eye.

Honesty. He can do this.

“When you first moved to New York and we’d talk --” Blaine stops and closes his eyes, trying to think about how he wants to explain this. “Do you remember, at New Year’s, when I told you how I’d spent a lot of that time feeling like Rose from _Titanic_?” Kurt makes a noise of affirmation, and it’s that, the quiet cue that Kurt is really listening, that gives Blaine the courage to keep going. “It was really frustrating for me. I spent so much time listening to you talk about your life here, and it’s not like -- I didn’t mind that. I loved hearing about your life. But I didn’t feel like I was getting the same thing in return from you. There were things I’d tell you that you’d forget about. Most of the time, I felt like most of what I said to you went in one ear and out the other. And I needed you to listen. I needed to be able to practice my speech with you, and I needed your help picking out my clothes and ties, some days, even if Cooper thinks it’s stupid. It’s just --” Blaine exhales slowly and looks back up at Kurt. “It meant something to me, then. It was a way I could be close to you without you actually being there, and there were some days when I just… needed you, needed this. I didn’t ask for much, then, Kurt, and I ask for even less, now. This is just… one thing I need from you, okay?”

Kurt leans in and presses a soft kiss to Blaine’s cheek. “Okay,” he says simply, pulling back. He reaches for Blaine’s hand and leads him over to the bed, pressing at Blaine’s shoulder to get him to sit at the foot of the bed. “You sit here,” Kurt instructs, “and let me work my magic.” That gets Blaine to smile in spite of himself, and from his perch, Blaine watches in silence as Kurt hand-picks Blaine’s armor.

They’re mostly quiet about it, Kurt purusing through various hangers in the closet and drawers in the dresser and wardrobe. They exchange the occasional comment or question and answer, and Kurt doesn’t actually move too much around or out of place, something Blaine appreciates. It’s a good hour (and a few outfit changes that make Kurt’s stare turn a little heated and Blaine’s underwear a little uncomfortably wet) before Kurt declares them done. There are a total of five outfits hanging on the far right side of Blaine’s closet, able to be mixed and matched in a couple of combinations. Kurt’s even picked out an array of ties for him, and when he kneels in front of Blaine at the foot of the bed, Blaine wants nothing more than to kiss him.

So he does.

Kurt inhales sharply and leans into the kiss, anchoring his hands on Blaine’s knees. “Thank you,” Blaine murmurs when they break apart. “This is -- you told me to take care of myself, last month. I know it might not really make sense, but this is one of the few ways I know how to do it.”

Kurt’s lips twist into a smile, almost like he’s trying not to laugh. “I think this probably qualifies as me taking care of you, actually -- oh.” Understanding dawns on Kurt’s face, and it’s with a rather heavy little sigh that he moves his hands from Blaine’s knees to take Blaine’s hands. “Next time, you can just tell me that you need me, okay? I don’t mind helping you. I like doing it. You don’t have to go about it in this roundabout, twisted, passive-aggressive, silently testing me way, okay?”

Blaine feels all of the tension melt out of his shoulders. “You seem less angry than I thought you’d be, given how upset you were on my birthday.”

“I really don’t _want_ to fight with you, you know,” Kurt says dryly, arching an eyebrow. “And if we’re being fair, here, I think this was more about you -- about us -- than it was about Joy. So I’m willing to let this one slide.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine sighs, withdrawing one of his hands to rub at his temple a little. “It’s just -- I’ve never done this before. I haven’t tried dating someone while I’ve been a dad but it’s _you_ and I just… have no idea what I’m doing, as usual,” he laughs, a bit self-deprecatingly.

Kurt’s mouth twists into an amused smile. “You’ve said that a lot, before,” he counters, “but I think this is the first time it’s actually true.”

“That… doesn’t actually make me feel better,” Blaine says, nose wrinkling in dissatisfaction.

“No,” Kurt laughs. “I mean, you said it yourself -- you’ve never done this before. Of course it makes sense that you don’t know what you’re doing.” He reaches for Blaine’s other hand again, soft and strong and sure, and Blaine relaxes into it. The world just makes more sense like this, with Kurt’s hands in his. Whenever Blaine feels lost or afraid or unsure, this is what anchors him. This is home. “And in case you’ve forgotten,” Kurt continues, “I’ve never really done this before either. I’ve dated you, but I’ve never dated anyone who has a kid before. But we’ll figure it out, Blaine, because that’s what we’ve always done. We’re in this together.”

The words stir up a lot of emotions for Blaine; he finds himself simultaneously relieved and uncomfortable, and he can’t quite pinpoint the reason behind either. More than anything else, though, Blaine feels the undertones of importance of what it means to let Kurt take care of him again -- to let them take care of each other. Quietly, Blaine leans forward again and wraps his arms around Kurt, resting his forehead against Kurt’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he says again, much softer this time, “for making me feel safe.”

And there, swimming alongside the current of fear Blaine can’t quite get rid of, is something he’s wanted to feel again for a long time.

Safe.

Home.

Tears stinging at his eyes, Blaine lifts himself up and back enough to press an intimate kiss to Kurt’s lips. Kurt kisses back, a little harder than earlier, and his hands drift from Blaine’s waist to the tops of Blaine’s thighs, his touch still making Blaine shiver even through the layers of his sweatpants and hoodie. Inhaling sharply, Kurt shifts so that he’s situated between Blaine’s legs. Up one of Kurt’s hands goes, fingers catching on the material of Blaine’s hoodie as they travel up his chest. Blaine’s hands shift to the soft skin of Kurt’s neck, touch gentle and reverent and barely there. It’s startlingly intimate, and Blaine can hardly breathe when they finally break the kiss, noses still brushing against each other, vision mostly blurred. Kurt says his name -- _Blaine_ \-- and it comes out almost gasped, tinged with tones of tenderness. Kurt’s voice sends another spark of arousal through him, causing him to press in closer, but he ignores the ache and the wet between his legs in favor of enveloping Kurt’s mouth with his own again.

Kurt takes the kiss that Blaine initiates and runs with it because that’s what he’s always done. Blaine has always been the one to bring their lips together, and Kurt has always been the one to remove the layers between them. Now is no exception, not even after the time they’ve spent apart. Kurt tugs off Blaine’s hoodie and t-shirt in one go without a second thought and it’s _okay_ , because this is familiar and this is safe and this -- this is coming home. Kurt’s hands and lips and everything are back on Blaine’s skin, exploring and getting reacquainted and remembering. Every skim of palms over Blaine’s torso and press of lips against Blaine’s neck are like little shocks of electrocution sucking air from him, breath by breath until his clit is throbbing and his fingers are starting to bruise the skin of Kurt’s neck. And down, down, down Kurt’s mouth goes, peppering hot flashes of kisses along the skin of Blaine’s torso as his fingers hook into the waistband of Blaine’s sweats and --

Blaine grips Kurt’s shoulder hard, gasping, but whatever protest he might’ve had dies in his throat when he feels the material of Kurt’s shirt against his skin. Kurt glances up at him, lips pressed to the softness of Blaine’s belly, and Blaine’s brain short-circuits. He tugs at the material of Kurt’s shirt because it’s the only thing that makes sense to him right now -- getting Kurt out of his own layers puts them on equal ground, and they’re in this together, _god_. Quickly, Kurt peels off his shirt, hands immediately reaching for the waistband of Blaine’s sweatpants again. This time, his fingers hook into the waistband of Blaine’s underwear as well, and Blaine doesn’t think twice about lifting his ass a little off of the bed to make it easier for Kurt to tug the rest of Blaine’s clothes off.

And then Blaine is naked, and the room is suddenly startlingly silent. Kurt’s heated stare drops down to the glistening wet of Blaine’s pussy, and it’s with hands just out of reach and a shaky exhale that Kurt says, “Did you… before I arrived?”

“Yeah,” Blaine breathes, too aroused to be embarrassed.

Kurt’s eyes slip shut, just for a beat, before he’s moving in close again, cupping Blaine’s head in his hands and crashing their lips together. Blaine scoots a little on the bed to get closer, closer, closer, his hands settling at Kurt’s hips. More material there, more layers, more keeping them apart, and that’s not right, because together, they’re in this _together_ and god, Blaine’s getting light-headed and his skin feels like it’s vibrating awake. Blindly, Blaine works his hands down to try and undo the button and zipper of Kurt’s pants. They’re too close together, too close and not close enough, and it’s with a staccato of a kiss-kiss-kiss that Kurt forces himself to pull away to try and get rid of his pants himself. On his knees, he’s only able to get the button and zipper undone, unsuccessful at tugging the waistband down far enough. Frustrated and clearly impatient, Kurt pushes his pants and underwear down as he pushes himself to his feet. Blaine reaches for him as soon as his cock is exposed, wanting to sink his mouth over Kurt’s cock. The whole chain of events is rushed and awkward and a collision course, and just as Kurt manages to kick the pants off of his ankles, Blaine leans just a little too far forward, and together, they tumble into the pile of clothes on the floor with ungraceful _oomph_ s.

Blaine ends up curled against Kurt’s side, one leg tucked over Kurt’s, and he takes a second to get his bearings before trying to reposition himself so he can get his mouth where he wants it. He barely gets his lips around the head of Kurt’s cock, though, before Kurt’s hand grips tight into the hair at the back of Blaine’s head, pulling him so their faces are level. “Don’t,” Kurt gasps, eyes rolling back in his head a little when his cock inadvertently slides against the wet folds of Blaine’s pussy. “It’s been over three years, Blaine, I’m not going to last if you do that.”

And it’s that -- the first real acknowledgement that this is what they’re doing, that they’re about to have sex again for the first time since before their break-up -- that does Blaine in. Because they’re tangled up naked in a pile of clothes on the floor of his bedroom and they’re about to have _sex_ , and it strikes Blaine with sharp and startling clarity in that moment that Kurt trusts Blaine enough to do this again. Blaine would’ve given just about anything to have this after they’d broken up, but he has it now. Regardless of how they’ve gotten to this point (how _did_ they get to this point?), Blaine recognizes that they’re both finally at a place where they’re not afraid to need each other. And for the first time, Blaine feels like maybe -- _maybe_ everything will be okay.

So the retort Blaine’s mind supplies -- something about Kurt not lasting long regardless of what they do, if that’s the case -- fizzles out before it even reaches his throat. Instead, he drops his forehead to rest against Kurt’s, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly. “I’ve missed you,” he admits quietly.

Kurt relaxes the hand gripping Blaine’s hair and moves the other to rest on Blaine’s cheek, prompting Blaine’s eyes to flutter open again. “That’s really all it was, wasn’t it?” Kurt says quietly. “When I first moved out here -- you just missed me.”

The simple answer is probably _yes_ , but nothing about this is simple, and here, lying tangled up together on top of their clothes, Blaine knows that things are different -- _they_ are different. And the best he can do with Kurt’s trust right now is to brush their noses together and give a condensed version of a complicated answer. “I needed you.”

Kurt answers him with a hot kiss, teeth dragging along Blaine’s bottom lip. He shifts them with ease, pinning Blaine’s back to the floor. Kurt leans in again, his cock brushing tantalizingly against Blaine’s thigh, and he brushes his lips lightly against Blaine’s, his voice low and breathy when he speaks. “I’m here now.”

Blaine’s heart _bursts_ with affection, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the stinging pinpricks of tears that threaten to well in his eyes. It takes _everything_ in him not to speak -- to tell Kurt that he loves him, still, that he always has.

The sentiment stays trapped between his lungs, though, as Kurt presses a soft, warm kiss to Blaine’s mouth. A hand under Blaine’s thigh, hoisting his leg up and to the side a little, and Kurt slips his cock inside. Blaine feels his chest tighten as Kurt’s cock stretches and fills him, but all he can do is wrap his arms around Kurt’s torso and cling to him tightly, trying to pull him closer, closer, closer. Kurt’s chest stays still under his touch, and Blaine knows that Kurt is holding his breath, too, likely just as overwhelmed as Blaine is by how _good_ this feels.

And then Kurt starts to move his hips, and between two sets of lungs, their breath gets released.

Blaine opens his eyes as Kurt props himself up on an arm to help maintain his balance as he thrusts into Blaine, breath coming out in panted half-staccatos and quiet moans. Kurt’s body is different than it was before, older and more muscular. Kurt has really grown _into_ his body, and Blaine’s so captivated by admiring it that he doesn’t even think about being ashamed of how different his own is in comparison to what it used to be. And _fuck_ , it feels good to be filled this way again, with warmth and flesh and blood and _Kurt_. Blaine moves the leg that Kurt’s got hold of and wraps it around Kurt’s waist a little, toes dragging along the curve of Kurt’s ass. Kurt bucks forward a little hard, angle shifting a little, and --

Blaine’s hips pivot weakly toward Kurt of their own resolve, chasing the feeling. It’s a feeling of fullness and angle and pressure that Blaine can’t get on his own, not with his fingers or his toys, and it feels wonderfully familiar. Blaine’s back arches off of the floor a little, hand fisting in the material of whatever article of clothing is next to him. Kurt’s hand finds the small of his back with ease and pulls him closer, causing him to press in a little deeper. The position is _perfect_ for Blaine, and even though he’s already come tonight, his body still chases the thrum of pleasure, pussy clenching a little involuntarily around Kurt’s cock. Kurt buckles with it, his whole weight coming to rest on Blaine’s body.

It’s all a hazy, lust-filled blur from there -- Kurt’s hands finding Blaine’s ass and shoulder to keep him in place while Kurt fucks into him; Blaine’s heel digging into the small of Kurt’s back; sweat starting to gather on Kurt’s brow, neck, clavicle; Blaine’s nails digging into Kurt’s skin, dragging through the hair along Kurt’s scalp; Kurt’s toes curling into the material of the clothes piled closest to his feet; the taste of tea on their tongues and the tightness of their muscles and Kurt’s name falling almost reverently from Blaine’s lips, an answer to an earlier call --

And that’s all it takes for Kurt to come, spilling warm and wet inside of him, and Blaine’s senses are flooded with heat and skin and Kurt’s startled gasp in his ear. Blaine presses a gentle kiss to Kurt’s neck, feeling the rapid pulse and beat under his lips. They’re a _mess_ \-- bruised and flushed and wet and sticky and on the floor, god. The whole thing is over almost embarrassingly fast -- it can’t have taken more than ten or fifteen minutes, at most. And somehow, in spite of all of this, Blaine finds himself smiling at the overwhelming feeling of Kurt on him, in him, around him, heart beating erratically as Kurt comes down.

Kurt trusts him, and Blaine is home.

And in the few minutes Kurt takes to calm down and gather himself, face tucked tight against Blaine’s neck, Blaine realizes what this means. There’s a light on in the hallway and Joy is asleep in her room and Blaine has totally got the whole thing backwards. Because as much as Kurt may need time to really be able to do what Blaine does -- to be a parent -- he’s not the one who really needed it. He’s not the one with trust issues anymore. He’s not the one who needs to be sure of the strength of their relationship. That’s all Blaine, and the slight twist of guilt in his gut is quickly replaced with a warm, sex-addled satisfaction, because that’s what this means, in the end.

It means that Blaine is learning to trust Kurt again, and if they can do this, then things really, really might be okay.

Kurt pulls out but hardly moves beyond that, lips tracing lazily along the column of Blaine’s throat. His whole body is dead weight on top of Blaine but Blaine absolutely cannot find it in him to care, because as much as he loves his daughter and as happy as she makes him, this is another type of joy entirely. Blaine cards his fingers through Kurt’s hair, fingertips of his other hand dancing lightly across Kurt’s back, and it’s with a content sigh that Kurt pulls his lips away and rests his cheek against Blaine’s clavicle. “Well,” Kurt mumbles, speech a little slurred, “that was...”

Blaine’s hand pauses in Kurt’s hair. “Unexpected?”

“Spontaneous, yes,” Kurt allows, speech a little clearer, “but I was going to say it was over a little fast.”

Blaine grins before pressing a kiss to Kurt’s temple. “In all fairness, you did warn me.” Kurt shifts his face a little so he can glare up at Blaine, but there’s no heat behind it, a twist of a smile hiding behind the scowl. Blaine bites his lip and resolutely doesn’t look at Kurt’s face so he doesn’t laugh. But redirecting his gaze means he’s looking out into the hallway, and again, he thinks of Joy. He feels a slight twist of guilt because he feels a little reckless like this, naked with Kurt on the floor. It’s not -- he doesn’t feel _bad_ about it. He’s taking care of himself, he’s happy, they’re in a good place. He just doesn’t want to let himself go too much, even if his mind has only been off of his daughter for about twenty minutes. He needs to be aware of Joy almost always.

And then Kurt’s lips are back on his neck again, fingers trailing down to the wet slick of Blaine’s labia, and Blaine forgets how to use his words. “We should -- oh -- we should probably -- probably get dressed,” Blaine says breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as Kurt starts to lavish him with attention again. “Joy --”

“-- is asleep for the night,” Kurt reminds him, lips pressed against the hollow of Blaine’s throat.

Kurt rubs the pad of his thumb over Blaine’s swollen clit, and Blaine’s hips jerk up toward him in response. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Blaine remembers what his father had said about his relationship with Kurt -- about how he gets lost in how he feels -- and it’s just barely enough to keep Blaine’s focus on trying to be a little responsible and presentable. “We should… at least… move to the bed,” he gasps.

Kurt sighs and withdraws his hand, resting his chin on Blaine’s chest. “If I get into that bed, I’m not leaving it tonight.” They both still a little at the implication -- that Kurt would stay the night -- before Kurt closes his eyes, cheeks tinged a little pink in embarrassment. “Wow, that was a little presumptuous, wasn’t it?” Kurt says, scoffing a little self-deprecatingly.

“No, it’s… okay,” Blaine interjects quietly. “You can… stay, if you want.” Kurt’s face relaxes as he opens his eyes. “I mean, I never like the idea of you being out super late alone anyway.”

Kurt arches an eyebrow, amused. “You realize I’ve done it plenty of times since I first moved here, right?”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Old habits die hard. I just want you to be --”

“-- safe,” Kurt supplies quietly. He’s quiet for a minute before dropping a kiss to Blaine’s chest, and the gesture’s warm and distracting enough that Blaine has trouble remembering what else he was going to say.

“You, um -- clothes,” Blaine huffs, trying to focus. “I don’t know if I have anything that’ll fit you all that well. I know we used to swap clothes, sometimes, but we’re built a little differently now. So I guess… if you stay, you either have to get up early to go home and get ready for work tomorrow, or you’re stuck doing the walk of shame,” Blaine says, biting his lip in an effort not to laugh at the mental image of Kurt showing up to work completely unkempt tomorrow.

Kurt just gives him a _look_. “Okay, one -- this is me we’re talking about. I would never be caught dead doing the walk of shame. Two -- given where I work, it’s not even an option. And three -- it’s unnecessary because I have a change of clothes in my bag.”

Blaine blinks at him in surprise. “You do?”

“Well, yeah,” Kurt says, shrugging like it’s a natural thing to do. “I mean, you had me stay the night when I babysat Joy, and then again over New Year’s, so I guess I just -- I thought there might be more occasions where I’d need to have an overnight bag, and then we got back together, and --”

Blaine silences him with a hard kiss, tugging Kurt up closer to his face with his hands. It’s not that unlike Kurt to be prepared should something unexpected happen, but this is different. This is Kurt altering his habits and preparing for a life that includes Blaine -- and by extension, Joy -- on a regular basis. This is what Blaine has needed to really feel like Kurt will be able to handle being a parent -- to handle the _truth_ of it. It’s not enough, not on its own, but it definitely makes Blaine feel more comfortable, and he thinks that he might be ready to tell the truth -- not now, but soon.

Kurt doesn’t let Blaine hold him in place for long, though, and soon Kurt is trailing kisses down Blaine’s torso. He grabs hold of one of Blaine’s hands on the way down, tangling their fingers together, and it’s _that_ that makes Blaine’s heart start to beat a little faster. Across Blaine’s chest, down his stomach, along his sides and over the soft skin of his belly -- Kurt’s lips cover all of it, and Blaine’s toes are just about to curl in anticipation when Kurt stops. Kurt’s name gets caught in his throat when he realizes that Kurt is staring at the faint scars of stretch marks just above his hips. “Oh,” Blaine says, quiet and uncomfortable. “Um, those are -- I know I didn’t have those, before, but --”

And again, Blaine loses his words, because Kurt presses kisses there, too, all along one side, eyes warm. “They’re part of who you are now,” Kurt says simply, lips moving across Blaine’s stomach over to the marks on the opposite side. “They’re what make you _you_. They’re a reminder of you as a dad, and in case you’ve forgotten,” he says, dropping his voice a little as he presses one last kiss to Blaine’s skin, “I kind of have a thing for that.”

Blaine feels a smile bloom onto his face. “There you go again, zigging when I think you’re going to zag.”

Kurt’s answering smile is warm and familiar, an echo of a face Blaine remembers seeing over petals of red and yellow. But Kurt’s smile quickly gives way to a look of confused concentration when he gets distracted by finding his underwear wedged under Blaine’s thigh. He glances over his shoulder to the quiet, empty, dimly lit hallway before turning his attention back to Blaine, eyes sparkling. “Tell you what -- I’ll put these back on,” he says, tugging the underwear out from under Blaine, “grab my bag from the living room, and then I’ll meet you up there,” he finishes, nodding toward the bed above them. He moves back up along the length of Blaine’s body, his underwear clutched in one hand, and rests his forehead against Blaine’s. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And then,” Kurt adds, dragging his fingertips down the length of Blaine’s chest, stopping just short of his pussy, “we’ll see how long _you_ last.”

* * * * *


	10. Chapter 10

Over the next few weeks, things start to get serious -- comfortable, and not heavy, but still... serious. Kurt stays over one night, and then two, and then he's spending three nights a week at Blaine's apartment. By night five on the second week, Blaine's cleared out some drawer and closet space in the bedroom and counter space in the bathroom, and Kurt ends up buying an extra stock of shower and moisturizing supplies just to leave at Blaine's apartment so he doesn't have to lug toiletries back and forth. Blaine starts to feel comfortable enough letting Kurt babysit at night or on weekends if he has a paper or a project he needs to finish on campus or in the library. And that means that Kurt starts to really get to know Joy as a person on his own, apart from her interactions with Blaine. He starts to catch onto her favorite foods and notices that she's incredibly tactile and gets comfortable enough giving her baths and putting her to sleep. He learns what disciplinary practices Blaine has in place (not that Kurt has ever really needed to use them).

He's there when Blaine gets home and the whole thing is so habitually comfortable and domestic that it should kind of scare him a little, but... it doesn't. He and Blaine always felt this comfortable with each other, before. He'd told Rachel that they were a fabulous old married couple, back during his senior year, and it was really kind of true. Falling back into routine and comfortable domesticity with Blaine really isn't all that different than falling back in love with him over recent months. They're not even really separate acts, honestly. He still has a life outside of this -- still has his own place and his job that are distinct and separate and his own, things that make him Kurt Hummel, things that don't define him in relation to someone else. But the thing is that Blaine has always been a part of him -- he'd told Blaine as much on Blaine's birthday. And Joy is part of Blaine, which means that if Kurt continues to do this -- to try and slowly integrate himself into their lives -- then Joy might end up being a piece of him, too.

(On the days and nights when he's the one to sing her to sleep, he feels like she might already kind of be, a little.)

Being with Blaine makes Kurt feel comfortable enough to be himself, and for the first time in a long time, he is genuinely happy.

With Kurt's increased presence around Blaine's apartment, of course, comes an increase in sexual tension and arousal. So it ends up that most of the nights that Kurt stays over end up with them engaging in some variety of sexual activity at _least_ once (which -- once is kind of conservative, honestly).

Today -- a surprisingly warm Saturday afternoon toward the end of March -- finds them quite literally tangled up in the sheets of Blaine's bed, struggling to keep quiet while Joy naps. Blaine's palm is anchored flat against Kurt's chest as he rides Kurt's cock for all he's worth, limbs trembling and breathing ragged. Kurt's heart is thundering under Blaine's touch, hips struggling to stay still and let Blaine do the work. Blaine's pussy feels _incredible_ around him, warm and wet, but they've been at it for a while, a good forty-five minutes, and Kurt knows they don't have long before Joy wakes up. Strung out and longing to come, Kurt bucks his hips up in answer to Blaine's downward grinding. Blaine gasps, nails stabbing a little at Kurt's chest as his fingers curl in pleasure, and Kurt has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. Quiet, quiet, they have to be quiet, they don't have a lot of time and Kurt wants to come, _needs_ to come, but he wants to pull an orgasm out of Blaine, first, long and drawn out and enough to make Blaine feel it all over. "Do you think you can come like this?" Kurt murmurs, toes curling as Blaine works his hips a little faster. "If you touch yourself?"

Blaine's eyes darken, but his smile lights up his whole face as he leans in for a quick kiss. "If you take over the hard work here, then yeah, maybe," Blaine breathes, pushing himself back up. He leans farther back than he was before, bracing a hand behind himself, between Kurt's legs, for balance. He slides two fingers down to move quickly over his clit, gasping when Kurt thrusts up, taking over. Kurt anchors his hands at Blaine's waist to keep him balanced and in place, fucking Blaine a little harder. Blaine's eyes slip shut as his jaw falls open, spine curving a little. Whatever Kurt's doing must be working because Blaine's fingers pick up speed, moving in hard, quick little circles as he chases an orgasm. Kurt pulls them a little closer together, and after a quick, jerky movement from Blaine fingers, Blaine's whole body stills and stiffens as he comes, pussy clenching tight around Kurt's cock. Blaine _gasps_ through it, hardly able to hold himself up as he starts to come down.

Too close to care, Kurt sits up and pulls Blaine more securely into his lap to reach his own orgasm. And when he comes, it's with his face tucked against Blaine's neck, the still-erratic thrum of Blaine's pulse beating against Kurt's lips.

Back against the mattress and still tangled up in sheets, Blaine untangles their bodies and leans in close to trail kisses along Kurt's jaw. "Do me a favor?" Blaine murmurs.

Kurt huffs out a tired laugh. "Now? Can't you give me a little bit to catch my breath first?"

"Not what I meant," Blaine reassures him, propping his head up on his hand to look back down at Kurt. "Keep an eye on Joy for me while I take a quick shower? She'll probably be up soon. Hey!” Blaine laughs when Kurt sighs a little dramatically. “I need one! I didn't get a shower this morning!"

"And whose fault is that?" Kurt reminds him dryly. "You're the one who woke me up with a blowjob."

Blaine grins and captures Kurt's mouth with a kiss. "Couldn't help myself," he murmurs. "I wanted to take advantage of the alone time. And I don't remember hearing you complaining this morning."

"By the time I woke up, I hardly had time to figure out what you were doing before I came," Kurt argues, laughing. He kisses away whatever Blaine's counter-argument might’ve been, cradling the back of Blaine’s head with his hand and pulling Blaine close again. Blaine hooks a leg back over Kurt’s and kisses back a little deeper. They could so _easily_ fall back into this, get lost in each other and go another round, but they’re almost out of time. Reluctantly, Kurt pulls away with a sigh and waves a hand in the general direction of the door. "Go," he sighs, "or else neither of us is getting out of bed or getting dressed, and I don't think we're really ready to have that conversation with your daughter if she walks in on us like this."

"No," Blaine sighs, “we're not." He darts in to grant Kurt one more kiss as a thank you before rolling out of bed and gathering some clothes to take with him to the bathroom.

Kurt's a little slower at getting up and pulling clothes back on, but he manages to put himself together fairly quickly, and when he makes his way out to the front of the apartment, Joy's still asleep. He takes the extra time to wash his hands and peruse the cupboards for a few minutes, grabbing a few things to take as snacks to the park later. He’s just finished refilling her special cup with fresh water when a bleary-eyed and slightly lethargic Joy finally pads into the kitchen with Margaret Thatcher dog tucked under her arm. “Hey, you,” he greets quietly, kneeling down to be level with her. “Sleep okay?”

Joy yawns but nods. “Where’s Daddy?”

“In the shower,” Kurt informs her. “He’ll be out soon. What did you want to do before we go to the park later?”

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes, taking a second to clearly think about it before she answers him. “Can we color?”

Kurt smiles. “Sure,” he says, hoisting her into her booster seat and pushing her cup toward her. “I’ll go get the books and crayons.” He takes a few minutes to locate the ones they’d most recently worked on because Joy takes pride in remembering what she’s accomplished. He grabs the crayons, too, and a set of colored pencils, but he detours and backtracks into Blaine’s room to find his own sketchpad before rejoining her in the kitchen.

They’re a few minutes into the activity when Blaine finally joins them, fresh and clean and put-together. It’s such a stark contrast to how disheveled and unkempt he looked a half hour ago, naked body pressed against Kurt’s. Kurt smiles and averts his gaze to his blank sketchpad as Blaine presses a kiss to Joy’s cheek. “Coloring,” Blaine says approvingly. “What are you going to do next?”

Joy takes a second to look over the picture in front of her before answering. “The birds,” she decides.

“What color are you going to use?” Blaine asks. And Kurt knows why he asks, because he’s been watching Blaine teach Joy basics for months now, and colors are the exploration this spring.

Again, Joy is quiet and hesitant before making her decision, and it’s with improved dexterity that she picks up a yellow crayon and presents it to him. “This one.”

“What color is that?” Blaine prompts.

It takes her a minute to provide him with the correct answer. “Yellow.”

“Yellow,” Blaine affirms with a smile and a kiss. “Good job.” He rests his hands gently on Joy’s shoulders as she turns her attention back to her coloring book. “Yellow birds,” he says quietly, and Kurt looks back up to meet Blaine’s knowing grin with his own. Blaine’s phone rings, interrupting them, and Blaine reaches around to dig it out of his back pocket to answer it. “Just a sec,” he says into the phone before holding the phone in Joy’s direction. “Say hi to Grandma.”

Joy’s face lights up a little as she turns to face the phone, and it’s with the biggest smile on her face that she says, “Hi, Grandma!”

Blaine’s mother answers her, though her words are a little garbled and answered through the phone from Kurt’s spot, and it’s not long before Blaine takes the phone back and asks his mother to wait for a minute. “I’m going to take this in the bedroom,” Blaine informs him. “You okay out here?” Kurt nods and dismisses him with a wave, turning his attention back to his sketchpad.

He’s startled when Blaine leans in and presses a quick kiss to his lips, and by the time Kurt opens his eyes to glance over at Joy (who is totally engrossed in her coloring again and probably didn’t even notice), Blaine’s already out of the kitchen. Kurt exhales slowly and leans back in his chair, fingers touching his lips. It’s the first time that Blaine’s shown anything even remotely close to that level of affection toward him in front of Joy, and even though Kurt’s pretty sure Joy didn’t see it, it still _means_ something. It means that Blaine must finally be getting comfortable enough that he’s okay with explaining their relationship to Joy -- at least in basic terms. The sex thing -- that’s obviously not a conversation either of them want to have with her anytime soon. But if Blaine’s comfortable enough to kiss Kurt in front of Joy, Kurt must be doing a good job of proving himself capable of taking care of her. And it’s not -- it’s not like he’s been trying to prove himself, not exactly. He’s just taken the opportunities that Blaine has been giving him.

Still, it adds a layer of complexity to their newly developed (or redeveloped, depending on how it’s looked at) comfortable domesticity, and Kurt’s vision is swimming a little when he looks back down at his sketchpad. Quickly, he reaches for a few of his pencils and sets to work. Sketching helps soothe him and clear his mind the way a glass of warm milk does at night, and the longer he works and the more his hands get marked up, the calmer his heartbeat becomes until it’s just a rested constant again.

“Wow.”

Kurt blinks up, startled at the sound of Joy’s voice. She’s leaning over the surface of the table on her elbows, her own coloring book completely abandoned. It takes Kurt a second to realize that she’s been watching him sketch, and when he looks away from the wonder in her eyes back down to his work, he’s surprised to find what he’s been drawing. It’s -- it’s not that he doesn’t really sketch womens’ fashion at all. He _does_ , especially since he started working for Isabelle. It’s just -- he’s not quite sure where this one came from. It’s a sundress, belted at the waistline with ruffles on the bodice. It’s not revolutionary or new by any means, but he obviously drew it for a reason.

He looks back up at Joy and sees yellow.

Grinning, he reaches for her and helps hoist her into his lap so she can get a closer look at his work. Her small hands grip the edge of the table as she leans forward, fascinated, and he absolutely can’t wipe the smile off of his face as he reaches for a dalila-esque yellow colored pencil to bring life to his drawing. Joy’s quiet while he works, but when he’s done, her fingers reach out toward the page reverently. “You don’t want to touch it yet,” he says gently. “It’s not like the pictures in your coloring book. You have to wait, okay?” Joy’s face falls a little, but she withdraws her hand obediently. Kurt rubs at her back with his clean hand to console her and drops a kiss to the back of her head.

When he looks up, he sees Blaine watching them from the doorway with warm eyes.

Kurt thinks about what Isabelle had asked him last month -- if he thought he was meant to grow into a parent the way that Blaine has -- and looks back down at Joy. She’s not touching the paper, but she’s tracing the outline of what he’s sketched in the air over it, fingers dancing in imitation in the air. And Kurt remembers, then, what he’d told Isabelle about feeling like the world had opportunity again, and here he is, taking the opportunity that Blaine is giving him. Kurt rests his cheek against Joy’s head and meets Blaine eyes with his own, taking a second to just breathe.

This is so much more than just babysitting.

But with Joy in his lap and Blaine’s eyes on him, Kurt finds he feels very much at home.

* * * * *

At the park, Kurt takes up a perch on a bench and hangs onto the bag of snacks and supplies. Joy immediately clambers onto the play structure, and Blaine hovers close by to keep an eye on her. Blaine’s hands hover behind Joy’s back in case she falls; it’s not the first time Kurt’s seen him do it, but it’s still heartwarming to watch Blaine be attentive to his daughter. Kurt waits until Joy’s infatuated with climbing the stairs and going down the slide repeatedly before he tries making conversation. “How was your phone call with your mom?”

“Good,” Blaine answers, not taking his eyes off of Joy. “She wanted to start coordinating some things for Joy’s birthday.”

Kurt smiles as Joy laughs in delight going down the twisting slide. “When is her birthday?” Kurt asks, thinking back to Joy’s fascination with his earlier sketches.

Blaine grins, but he still doesn’t take his eyes off of his daughter. “Why? Do you want to bake the cake or something?” Blaine teases.

“No!” Kurt laughs. “I mean, I can, if you want to --”

“Only if you don’t _eat it all_ \--”

“I would never,” Kurt gasps, feigning offense. “Please, Blaine, I’m not such a dessert fiend that I would scheme to make the cake for a kid’s birthday party just so I could eat it. I have _gift ideas_.”

Blaine laughs, but his attention seems much more focused on Joy than Kurt as he moves in toward the foot of the slide to grab her once she arrives at the bottom. “Her birthday’s in May,” Blaine answers, reaching for Joy as she comes to a stop in front of him. She squeals as Blaine picks her up and spins her around. “And you’re turning _three_ , aren’t you?” he says to her. “Gosh, you’re getting to be such a big girl.”

Joy smiles and curls in a little close, pointing at a structure behind Blaine. “Swings?” she asks hopefully.

“Sure,” Blaine agrees, tapping her on the nose and turning to face Kurt. “We’ll be back,” he announces dramatically. “I’m going to go turn Joy into a bird.”

Kurt laughs as they leave him, content to watch Blaine push Joy on the swings, sending her high. The wind catches her hair and flushes her face, and with each crest, Kurt understands what Blaine had meant -- she looks like she’s flying.

Armed with new information, Kurt uses the solace to think about what to do for her birthday. Blaine won’t have to twist his arm to get him to make a cake (Kurt does take his desserts very seriously). But Kurt wants to do something else, something more, something that’s from him and him alone, something that’s _just_ for Joy. She’d been so fascinated by his sketching, earlier, that he wants to use it somehow. He thinks he might frame it for her, once he’s done with it, but what he really wants to do is bring it to life. Of course, actually making it is going to be a little tricky. Kurt’s never made clothes for children before, and he’s not even really sure how to work with the sizing. Does he make it to fit her? Does he make it bigger? How much? There’s also the issue of figuring out exactly what her size is, but Kurt figures he can either ask Blaine what size to aim for or if he can take Joy’s measurements. Kurt doesn’t think it’ll be all that difficult, but he’s never made a dress for a three-year-old before.

He can’t imagine what it must be like for Blaine to watch his daughter grow up, can’t imagine how fast it must go sometimes. Blaine still looks at her like he did when she was first born, sometimes -- or at least, he does as far as Kurt can tell, based on the photograph that hangs on the wall in Joy’s bedroom. It’s a little strange and foreign to Kurt to think of how much she’s grown and changed in the last three years, how she’s gone from being a baby to this tiny _person_ , able to walk and talk and learn and think for herself. He remembers what Blaine had told him about Joy’s birth, how much Joy had affected him, how much light she’d brought to him in a time that had been dark. Kurt hasn’t given it much thought, honestly, but he tries to imagine what Blaine was doing almost three years ago, just before the arrival of his daughter. Which -- it’s actually not all that hard to imagine, because Kurt thinks about where he was roughly three years ago and finds he wasn’t in that great of a place, either. He’d just ended his friendship with Rachel and had moved into his own place. In March of 2013, he was still waiting to hear news about his dad’s health. He got it in April, of course, and they’d been beyond pleased and grateful for the good news. But May had brought Finn’s death, which was really just a dismal end to an already rough year.

A _really_ rough year.

Kurt had broken up with Blaine in October because Blaine had cheated on him.

Joy had been born in May.

What if --

Has Blaine been raising the child of the person he cheated on Kurt with?

Kurt’s stomach twists at the thought -- and then he immediately feels guilty for it, because Blaine had talked about being in a really dark place when Joy was born. God, it makes so much sense, now. Blaine’s never even _mentioned_ her other father. Of course he wouldn’t, because that would bring up every bad memory that tore them apart before. And it’s -- Kurt’s over it, he is, he has been for a long time. He’s forgiven Blaine for it. It shouldn’t make a difference if Blaine is raising the child of the person he cheated with. It doesn’t suddenly make Joy any less of a person and it doesn’t make Kurt like her or her nose any less. It doesn’t change who they are now or where they’re at in their relationship.

But Kurt can’t help feeling _unsettled_ at the realization, and as much as he doesn’t want to feel weird about it, he can’t deny that he does. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and tries to think rationally. Blaine has never mentioned Joy’s other father. As far as Kurt can tell, whoever the guy is is obviously not in the picture. There probably isn’t any reason to worry about him showing up for some reason. Maybe this guy doesn’t even know about her. Maybe Kurt is jumping to conclusions and making assumptions.

Maybe he should give Blaine the chance to tell him.

But it’s -- _fuck_ , that’s awkward. Kurt has no idea how he would even bring that up, much less navigate his way through that conversation. He doesn’t have any exes to speak of, but Blaine does, at least in some capacity. They haven’t really talked about it and Kurt doesn’t even really know why, but with the way his whole chest feels like it’s constantly coiling and unfurling right now, it’s clear that they need to. But it’s that -- the unsettling feeling threatening to take him over right now -- that gives him pause, because Kurt doesn’t even really have a handle on the way he feels right now, much less what he thinks about it. He needs time to at least try figuring that out, first, before he starts prying into Blaine’s personal business and asking awkward questions.

The past few weeks feel like a rapid fast-forward in comparison to what he feels right now. Things are getting _serious_ , and even though Kurt’s pretty sure he’s okay with that, right now, he needs to hit pause so he can try to get a clearer view of the picture he’s in.

Kurt looks back to where Blaine is pushing Joy on the swings and wonders who’s missing from their family portrait.

* * * * *

Kurt takes a week. Timing seems to factor into _everything_ now. He thinks long and hard about what it means if Joy is the product of Blaine cheating on him. It means that Joy was probably a little over a month early. And he tries to pinpoint exactly _why_ it makes him so uncomfortable to think of it as the truth. The best he can come up with is that while it does bring up a lot of unpleasant memories, it’s what the news would represent that unsettles him. Blaine had immediately flown out to tell Kurt the truth after he’d cheated, but this is different. If Blaine’s raising the child of the person he cheated on Kurt with, it almost feels like Blaine’s been keeping it a secret on purpose. And _that_ doesn’t sit well with him, that Blaine would keep something like that from him now. It’s almost like perpetuating the original fault, in a weird, twisted way. It’s not just that Blaine cheated on him -- it’s that something else happened as a result of it and Blaine wasn’t honest about it. And that goes against everything that they’ve been _trying_ to do since they reconnected last fall -- especially since they got back together over Valentine’s Day. The idea of it makes Kurt feel like losing hope, a little, because he’d really felt like they’d finally been finding their footing again. He wonders how many times they’ll slip up, how many mistakes they’ll make before they can really make this work. He wonders if it’s even possible, and that breaks his heart, because he _loves_ Blaine, and Kurt doesn’t want to give up on him, not this time.

(Briefly, Kurt considers what the alternatives might be if Blaine denies Kurt’s suspicions. If this isn’t the truth, then there was someone else, and Kurt doesn’t know how to feel about that. If this isn’t the truth, it means that Joy was even earlier, probably premature, and the thought makes Kurt’s heart ache.)

Kurt tries to use the week to his advantage. There’s a lot to think about, but he also has to figure out how he’s going to approach the subject with Blaine. He doesn’t want to just flat out ask; he doesn’t want to come across as accusatory, because it’s not an accusation. It’s not like Blaine has done something wrong by raising Joy. It’s not like Blaine can _help_ who her other father is, not now. But Kurt can ask _some_ questions, ones whose answers will give him enough insight to provide him with the answers he’s looking for. They’re -- well, they’re kind of leading questions, if Kurt’s being honest with himself, and he hates that this is the approach he’s decided to take, because again, this goes against everything that they’ve been working so hard at achieving. This is Kurt trying to get something out of Blaine in some roundabout, twisted, passive-aggressive way.

But it’s not a _test_. This isn’t some sort of requirement that Blaine has to meet. It’s just -- Kurt needs to know the truth to satisfy his own curiosity. Asking questions -- however awkward and leading and passive-aggressive they might be -- is giving Blaine opportunities to give Kurt the answers he’s seeking.

Kurt takes a week, and the following Saturday, he realizes that they’re starting to develop a _routine_. He’s been staying over Friday nights ever since they started having sex again, only taking time for himself to make his weekly call to his dad. Fridays turn into Saturdays. Saturdays usually mean a morning in, followed by lunch, followed by a nap for Joy that Kurt and Blaine usually use to their advantage, followed by a calmer activity before a trip to the park. Kurt’s a piece that’s slid into place in their puzzle with relative ease, and he wonders, now, what it would be like if he removed himself from it.

(He wonders what other pieces are missing.)

Today, the calm activity of choice is a game of memory, and Kurt tries not to focus too much on the irony of it. He’s settled comfortable on the couch in the living room watching Blaine and Joy play from their positions on the floor. Kurt knows that Blaine is trying to let her make most of the matches, because this, like everything else, is an opportunity for her to learn. It’s a little strange for Kurt, being around a child so often. The more time he spends with Joy, the more he finds himself being careful in everything that he says and does. Joy doesn’t tend to imitate all that much, but she is incredibly observant. Kurt remembers telling Mercedes, at sixteen, that every moment of life is an opportunity for fashion. This feels oddly similar, but his life is filled instead with opportunities to make a good impression on a little girl.

Opportunity.

Joy makes two matches back to back, a first, and Kurt lets Blaine praise her before observing, “She seems intelligent for her age. I mean -- I wouldn’t really know, I guess. I haven’t spent a lot of times around kids before, at least not this young. I’m not -- I guess I’m not sure where she should be at, really.”

Blaine smiles at him appraisingly. “She might be a little advanced, but she’s pretty on track, for the most part.”

“Are most kids her age as articulate as she is?”

“Usually?” Blaine says, making a mis-match on purpose to give Joy another opportunity to make a right one. “I think her speech is a little clearer, but that’s not surprising, given how long she’s been talking. She was babbling really early on.”

“Was she?” Kurt blurts awkwardly. “Early?” And wow, what a non-sequitur.

“Early?” Blaine echoes, only paying half-attention to him.

“When she was born,” Kurt clarifies, trying to calm down enough to get rid of the flush in his cheeks. Blaine spares him a half-curious glance, but it’s enough to make Kurt rush out some sort of justification. “I just -- you were talking about her birthday last week,” Kurt explains. “I figured if I’m going to be baking the main event at this party, I should probably know her a little better. I’ve got two plus years of history to catch up on.”

Blaine smiles appreciatively at him before turning his attention back to Joy’s quest for correct matches. “She was a little early -- week and a half, maybe? She was mostly full term, but god, did she have the most inconvenient timing.” Kurt feels the familiar twist of discomfort in his gut because god, this is really only serving to confirm his suspicions so far. Blaine makes another mis-match, but Kurt realizes that Joy’s starting to catch on because she huffs in frustration and makes the correct match _for_ him. “This one,” she says, picking up the tiny identical squares of cardboard and handing them to Blaine.

Blaine huffs out a laugh. “Well, then, young lady, show Daddy how it’s done.” He sits back a little, trying to contain his smile as Joy slowly works her way through the rest of the pieces left on the coffee table. “You’re attending the party, then?” he asks Kurt, not looking away from Joy.

Kurt swallows and feels the twist in his gut uncoil a little bit. “You couldn’t keep me away even if you tried,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “When’s her birthday, exactly? I’ll have to make sure to tell Isabelle I’m taking the day off.” And there, that’s a lot better, much smoother, much less suspicious, much less off-the-wall.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Blaine reassures him. “It’s a Saturday -- the seventh. You won’t have to take off.”

And that’s all the answer Kurt gets because Blaine’s attention is immediately back on Joy as she makes the last of the matches. “All done!” Joy announces, beaming up at Blaine.

“You win! Good job!” Blaine praises, laughing as Joy reaches out to high-five him. “Did you still want to go to the park today? Maybe the lady with the dogs will be there again.” Joy nods, eyes lighting up, and Blaine looks to Kurt. “Okay, I think I’ll pack the bag? I’ll grab the snacks and stuff. Can you make sure she washes up and help her pick out a sweater and some shoes?”

“Sure,” Kurt answers distractedly. Blaine moves into the kitchen and Joy reaches for Kurt’s hand, leading him into the bathroom. He helps her up onto the footstool so she can wash her hands, mind trying to process the information he’s gathered. It’s not -- they’re not the answers he expected, exactly, because nothing is quite fitting together the way that he’d been thinking it had. When Blaine had said May, Kurt had included the month in his math. But Joy was born early on in May, and she _wasn’t_ early like he’d been predicting, not really. The whole thing is confusing and throws him off, and as Joy washes her hands clean in the sink, Kurt takes a minute to redo the math in his head. If he really only counts the first four months of 2013, he has to go back five months in 2012, not three, which puts her conception sometime around early August.

“My hands are clean.”

Kurt blinks back into focus, eyes falling to the stream of water cascading over her small hands.

August.

He was still living in Lima, for the first couple of weeks of August.

Slowly, Kurt lifts his eyes to meet Joy’s in the reflection of the mirror.

She has his nose. She has his _nose_. She has _his_ nose.

_Oh._

He feels very suddenly like he can’t breathe at all and he can’t move and Joy’s struggling to turn the faucet off herself, Joy, Joy, Joy, _god_. Quickly, Kurt reaches out to turn off the faucet for her just to distract himself from what he’s just realized. Joy’s perfectly capable of drying off her own hands, but that’s all the distraction Kurt gets and it’s not enough, it’s not long enough at all. Joy reaches for his hand to pull him along into her room to pick out a sweater and shoes for the park and Kurt is rooted to the spot, eyes fixed on where their hands are joined.

He is holding his daughter’s hand.

“Are you coming?”

Kurt swallows hard and forces himself to look her in the face. God, that _nose_. Kurt’s stomach lurches the longer he stares at her, because it’s his nose on her face, _she_ is his, and the truth settles in his stomach like hot lead. “I, um -- I’m just going to… use the bathroom really quick, okay?” he says, words tumbling out awkward and stilted and rushed. “Why don’t you go pick out what you want to wear?”

“Okay,” Joy says amicably, and she’s walking out of the bathroom across the hall to her room without a second thought. And she’s _his_ , that is his _daughter_ walking and talking and thinking and living and breathing all on her own, and Kurt has to shut the bathroom door quickly before his eyeballs explode.

Kurt rests his forehead against the back of the door with a quiet _thunk_ , exhaling slowly. But the hot twist in his stomach is worse when he opens his mouth, and he can’t even so much as breathe the words _fuck, god_ before he’s forced to spin around and vomit into the toilet. The taste in his mouth is bitter, like he’s being forced to reject any lie that’s ever been told to him, any truth that’s ever been withheld, and all he’s left with is a stale reminder of the truth.

Kurt Hummel is a father.

Hands trembling, Kurt flushes the toilet and immediately pushes himself to his feet, hands reaches for his toothbrush on the counter. He has to get the bitter taste out of his mouth, has to get the truth out, out of him, because if he holds it in too long, he’s going to explode. But then he rinses out his mouth and wipes his mouth dry and the feeling of guilt hasn’t gone away, why hasn’t it gone away?

Joy.

Kurt closes his eyes and grips the edge of the counter hard, trying to remember how to breathe. It’s not Joy, this isn’t Joy’s fault, he’s still fond of her, still attached -- attached, attached, attached. But it’s this -- the truth and how it’s settled into his veins and the fact that he figured it out for himself and that Blaine never told him -- that makes Kurt feel like he’s completely lost the ability to breathe, to be okay, to be.

“Kurt?”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at his reflection in the mirror as Blaine knocks on the bathroom door again. “Kurt, are you okay?” And of course the answer is no, because how could it be anything else? How could he be anything but completely shell-shocked and overwhelmed and _panicked_? What is he supposed to do now? What is he supposed to say? How is he even supposed to face Blaine after realizing this, _god_?

He has to get out of this apartment. He has to get out and away, away from the man he loves and his daughter -- _their_ daughter. Kurt needs to get out and retreat to his own apartment and try to remember how to breathe again. God, it’s so _much_ and he has no idea where to even start and his head is starting to ache and there, that’s a good enough excuse. Slowly, he tries to gather himself and pulls open the bathroom door, deliberately not looking Blaine in the eye. “Kurt, what’s wrong?”

“Headache,” Kurt mumbles inarticulately, hardly able to get the words out. “I was a little… sick a minute ago,” he explains, gesturing to the toilet.

Blaine makes a sympathetic noise and rubs soothingly at Kurt’s forearm and no, no, no, he can’t do that, he can’t touch Kurt, it’s too much, too confusing right now. “I can give you something for the headache,” Blaine offers. “You can stay here and try and sleep it off while we go to the park, if you want.”

Kurt shakes his head. “No, it’s -- it’s okay, I think I’ll just… go home.”

Blaine’s hand stills on his arm. “Oh,” he says faintly. “Okay. I mean, if you’re sure? I really don’t mind if you stay --”

“It’s fine, I’d be more comfortable if I could --”

“Daddy,” Joy says, voice a little too loud as she joins them in the hallway, “can you help me with my shoes?”

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, god, Kurt is going to vibrate out of his skin if he doesn’t get out of here.

Blaine’s hand is gone as he kneels down to help Joy with her shoes, but Kurt can see him hesitate once he sees Joy’s selection. “Joy, these aren’t really practical or sensible for the park or the playground.”

Joy’s face falls, just a little, but she displays the shoes again, trying to convince Blaine of her choice. “But… they’re pretty.” And Kurt almost finds himself inexplicably laughing at that because god, she so takes after him.

“I’m going to grab my bag out of the living room and head home,” Kurt cuts in, chest feeling tight.

Joy’s face falls even more. “You’re not coming with us?”

It’s Joy who Blaine comforts this time, hand rubbing soothingly at her arm. “Kurt’s not feeling very well,” Blaine explains gently. “He needs to go home and rest.”

Joy looks so _disappointed_ that Kurt can’t bear to look at her, so he averts his gaze and barely notices her run back into her room for a few seconds. When she comes back, she’s holding Margaret Thatcher dog. “Here,” Joy offers, holding the animal out for him. “When I’m sick, I hold her, and she -- she makes me feel better.”

Kurt inhales sharply to keep the tears from practically vibrating out of him. “I don’t want to take her from you.”

“We can share,” Joy insists, pressing the dog into his hands. “I don’t like being sick.”

Kurt’s hand clutches the plush animal almost painfully tight. “Thank you,” he says quietly, not wanting to argue with her. “I promise I’ll bring her back when I’m feeling better, okay?” His voice almost cracks on the last word because he is so, so far from okay right now, and he needs his own space to think and breathe and deal with this. “I, um -- I’m going to head out. You don’t have to see me out, I’ll just --” He leans down and presses a kiss to Blaine’s forehead, more out of reflex and habit than anything else, and he barely gets the last words out at all. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly, staring after him, clearly confused and concerned. “Just… let me know if you need anything? I can pick up something if you need it since we’ll be out --”

Kurt nods and waves off the offer and makes probably the most abrupt and perplexing exit he’s ever made in his entire life. But this isn’t the stage. This isn’t some play, some story. This is reality. This is his _life_. And it hits him, as he walks down the hall and out of Blaine’s building, that he is the answer to his own questions. He is the person missing from their portrait, the piece of the puzzle that fits in with their picture. But there’s so much else, so much that’s still missing, so much he doesn’t know and doesn’t understand, and he can’t even begin to think about any of it until he is alone in the quiet and able to hold the weight of the truth on his tongue.

Up the stairs to his own apartment, through the door, bag on the floor, clothes stripped as he makes his way down the hall. He’s in the spray of the shower before the water has even had time to warm, and he curls up small on the floor of the tub, letting the water wash him clean.

In the quiet, Kurt feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

* * * * *


	11. Chapter 11

Kurt’s silent absence leaves Blaine cold.

The week following Kurt’s abrupt departure is unsettling for Blaine. Kurt’s sick and doesn’t want to risk getting Blaine or Joy sick -- and Blaine can understand that, he really can. But Kurt also pushes himself to still show up for work and ends up run down and ragged enough to the point where his text messages are brief and to-the-point. _Kurt_ isn’t cold, not really, but the lack of his presence in Blaine’s apartment -- in his life -- affects Blaine more than he’d thought it would.

Everything is different.

He wakes up without Kurt’s warmth wrapped around him. He arrives home and only has to cook dinner for two. He’s back to being entirely in charge of taking care of Joy again. It takes longer to get her to sleep at night without Margaret Thatcher. He doesn’t have Kurt’s company while he works on papers and projects and reading assignments for school, doesn’t have the luxury of a warm cup of tea and Kurt’s toes tucked against his thigh and knowing smiles exchanged across the couch. Kurt isn’t there to help take care of Blaine’s arousal and Blaine falls asleep alone.

Cold.

He hadn’t realized that he’d grown accustomed to Kurt’s place in their household in just a few short weeks (months, really, but it’s gotten more serious over the last month). Blaine tries not to take it personally, because he doesn’t think Kurt means it that way. He doesn’t think Kurt is withdrawing intentionally, not after everything they’ve been through, not after all the work they’ve put in to make their relationship work this time around. Truthfully, Blaine thinks he just _misses_ Kurt, and it’s only now, with Kurt temporarily out of the picture, that Blaine’s vision clears and he wakes up from the dream bubble he’s created for himself.

He needs to tell Kurt the truth.

Friday rolls around and Blaine waits for the opportunity to come, but it never does. Fridays have always been important to Kurt, because Fridays have always been for family. That hasn’t changed with time, if the phone calls Kurt shares with his father are any indication of that. But Fridays were starting to be a time for _them_ as well, for Kurt and Blaine and Joy and the makeshift little family Blaine sees them as, the family he hopes they can be. Friday arrives, but Kurt doesn’t, and it’s with a few brief text messages that Blaine learns not to expect him, not tonight, not this weekend. It’s the first Friday in over a month that Kurt isn’t with them, and in the quiet, Blaine misses Kurt’s voice.

So when he wakes up on Saturday, Blaine decides to create an opportunity for himself. He follows the routine they’d established, spends his morning and early afternoon with Joy before taking her out to the park. There’s hardly anyone there -- including the lady with the dogs Joy’s so fond of -- and within fifteen minutes Blaine finally understands why. It’s been unusually cold for this early in April, and as the sky darkens overhead, Blaine finds himself suddenly grateful he’d packed an umbrella. Joy’s face is flushed pink with cold much too quickly for Blaine’s liking, so he calls her over to him and decides to end their outing a little early.

Blaine tugs out a warmer coat for her out of the bag and kneels down in front of her to wrap her up in it, fingers stiff from the cold as he does up her buttons for her. “I thought we might go see Kurt today,” Blaine ventures, digging around in the bag to see if there’s a hat or mittens in there. “Maybe we could take him some flowers. How does that sound?”

“Can I pick the flowers?”

Blaine smiles at her as he continues digging through the bag. “Sure,” he says. “We can both pick some flowers. They’ll be extra special.”

“Does he -- does he still have my puppy?” Joy inquires.

Blaine nods, hand maneuvering around a bag of Goldfish crackers. “Yeah, he still has her. You can ask him if he still needs her, okay?” Finally, his hand encloses around a knit cap at the bottom of the bag, and he pulls it out triumphantly. “Here we go!” he sighs, turning to face her again. She squirms a little as he puts the hat on her and Blaine tries not to laugh; for all that Joy loves accessories, she’s not a huge fan of layers, even if it is cold and the layers are necessary. A stray, curling lock falls in front of her eyes just as he’s finishing, and he can’t help the grin that blossoms onto his face as her face scrunches up in annoyance. She blows air at it uselessly, lips puckered and looking completely ridiculous, and Blaine lets a laugh burst out of his chest as he tucks the lock into her cap for her.

“Blaine?”

Blaine blinks up in surprise at hearing his name, and there, approaching the park from the sidewalk, is someone he hasn’t seen in a long, long time. “Rachel,” he acknowledges, pushing himself to his feet. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she greets with a slight laugh, closing the rest of the distance between them. There’s an awkward pause for a moment as she stands in front of him, smile tight around the corners, and it takes an attempt and a half for them to meet each other in a supremely awkward hug. “It’s, um, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she ventures, pulling back and enclosing both hands around the paper cup in her hand.

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, adjusting his scarf just to give his hands something to do. “What, close to four years?”

“Four years this fall, yeah,” she confirms. They lapse into another awkward silence, and Blaine takes a second to tuck his hands into his pockets and get a good look at her. Time’s been fairly good to her -- she looks more like a woman than a girl, now, even with her first New York makeover. But in a strange way, different doesn’t look all that good on her, either, and Blaine can’t figure out exactly why. The last time he’d seen her had been in the early stages of her new look, a star in the making doing her best to stand out in a city where lights don’t dim. She doesn’t look like that anymore, doesn’t glow and doesn’t stand out. She doesn’t look out of place, not like Kurt says she did when she’d first moved out here.

She looks as though she blends in, like she’s part of the fabric of the city, and Blaine wonders if his previous assessment was wrong -- maybe time hasn’t been all that good to her.

Joy sneezes and startles Blaine out of his study, and he’s down on his knees again and pulling her handkerchief out of his pocket without a second thought. She scrunches up her face again while he cleans off her face, squirming in irritation at being fussed over, but she doesn’t fight him more than that. Blaine still feels Rachel’s eyes on him as he tucks Joy’s handkerchief back into his pocket, and he uses the distraction Joy’s provided to buy him a little time in hopes that it’ll make things less awkward. Blaine hoists Joy into his arms and balances her on his hip with practiced ease, reluctantly turning to face Rachel again. “This is, um -- this is my daughter, Joy,” he introduces.

Rachel smiles and it’s easily the brightest part of her, genuine and unaffected. “Hi,” she greets warmly, shifting her gaze to Joy. “My name is Rachel.”

Predictably, Joy curls closer to Blaine, eyes surveying Rachel curiously. Blaine offers her a gentle smile and rubs her back. “Joy tends to be a little… shy around new people. Reserved, really. She’s --”

“I like your hat,” Joy says, cutting him off and addressing Rachel.

A laugh bubbles out of Rachel. “Thank you!” she says, bright and a little more enthusiastic than normal. “I like yours, too.” _That_ gets Joy flustered, and she tucks her face against Blaine’s neck with an embarrassed smile. Blaine presses a kiss to her forehead and rubs at her back a little more, heartbeat skipping as her fingers curl reflexively into the material of his coat. “Do you, um --” Blaine blinks back over at Rachel expectantly, lips still pressed against Joy’s skin. “This is probably going to sound a little presumptuous, but do you have dinner plans?”

“Oh,” Blaine says, faltering. He doesn’t, not technically, but he’d been hoping that the flowers he’d been planning on picking out would be well-received and that Kurt would be feeling well enough to order take-out and spend an hour or so with him and Joy tonight. But that’s also kind of presumptuous, Blaine realizes, particularly when Kurt’s been keeping his distance because he hasn’t been feeling up for company. Blaine probably should’ve asked, first, and since his plan isn’t exactly concrete, he finds himself struggling to find a good enough reason to say no to Rachel (because Kurt would say no to Rachel, Blaine thinks, but Blaine isn’t Kurt and he doesn’t share their history). “I, um -- sure? If we can find a kid-friendly place, maybe? I don’t tend to take Joy out to restaurants all that often. She’s a good kid, it’s just --”

“I understand,” Rachel says, dismissing his concerns with a wave of her hand. Blaine wrinkles his nose a little, because he’s not sure she actually _does_ understand, but Rachel doesn’t give him a chance to argue. “There’s a cafe a few blocks down, if you’re up for it? I just -- I thought maybe we could catch up, a little.”

Joy shivers a little against him, and Blaine immediately takes to wrapping her hands up in his scarf, cursing himself for not bringing her mittens. “Yeah, that sounds perfect,” he answers distractedly, reaching for their bag. “I really should get her out of this cold.”

So Rachel leads the way and Joy stays tucked against Blaine, and he’s the only one who hears his daughter when she asks, “What about the flowers?”

Blaine’s heart twists a little. He hates going back on his word with her. “Not today,” he sighs.

“Tomorrow?”

“Daddy has lots of work to do tomorrow,” Blaine explains. “But if Kurt doesn’t come over before next weekend, we can go see him then, okay?” Joy’s _okay_ is half-hearted at best, and Blaine feels a twist of guilt. Joy obviously misses Kurt, too, and Blaine knows -- he _knows_ that he’s going to have to tell Kurt the truth as soon as possible. Joy’s already getting attached and she doesn’t even have a real understanding of what Kurt is to Blaine, much less what Kurt is supposed to be to her. It’s Blaine’s responsibility to handle this, to be an adult and be honest and protect his daughter from getting hurt.

Now, though, he follows Rachel inside the cafe and lets her pick a booth for them while he takes Joy into the bathroom to wash her hands. Being indoors seems to be doing her some good, and she perks up a little as they join Rachel again, skin not looking nearly so affected by the cold. Joy’s active in choosing what she wants to eat and asks for her special cup and Blaine’s so preoccupied with getting her settled in that he almost forgets about Rachel sitting across from him. 

He’s a little startled when he looks up at Rachel. She’s thinner than he’s ever seen her, something he hadn’t noticed before she’d taken off her coat earlier. Again, he’s struck with the impression that she’s faded, blended in. But Rachel’s smile is full of patience, and she gives them a few minutes before breaking the ice. “So you made it.”

Blaine relaxes a little, feeling the tension melt out of his shoulders. “I did,” he affirms with a sigh, reaching for his cup of coffee.

“Where did you end up going?” Rachel inquires.

“NYU,” he answers, taking a sip as he watches Joy perk up when their waitress brings a set of crayons and a placemat over for her. “Say thank you,” he instructs before taking another sip. Joy obliges his request easily, immediately reaching for the yellow crayon. “I’m, uh, I’m studying education. I graduate at the end of the year.”

“Seems like a perfect fit,” Rachel observes, sipping on her tea and nodding in Joy’s direction.

Blaine smiles warmly at his daughter. “Yeah, well -- she has kind of been the main source of inspiration for everything.” His smile falters, though, when he realizes where this conversation could go if they dwell on certain things too long. He absolutely doesn’t want to tell Rachel that Kurt is Joy’s other father before Blaine’s even told Kurt, but there’s more to it than that. Blaine may not have any real issues with Rachel, but Kurt _does_ \-- or, he did, at the very least. Blaine’s not sure how much information Kurt would really be comfortable with Blaine sharing. So he tries to steer the conversation in another direction. “What about you?” he asks, glancing at Rachel over the rim of his cup. “You should be graduating from NYADA soon, right?”

Rachel’s eyes dim a little. “Next month,” she confirms. “It’s, um -- I’m still auditioning all the time, but it’s hard finding work.”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Clearly, he’s not the only one who wants to avoid discussing certain topics. “How are you, otherwise?” Blaine says, changing topics. “Are you, um, are you still seeing that guy -- what was his name again?”

The spark in Rachel’s eyes dies entirely, and it occurs to Blaine too late that he might’ve just reminded her of Finn without meaning to. He can’t imagine that she doesn’t know, but he also knows that she and Kurt weren’t friends when Finn passed away. “Brody,” Rachel answers quietly, eyes trained on her cup of tea. “And, um, no, I’m not still seeing him. We ended things ages ago.”

“I’m… sorry?”

Rachel takes a breath and smiles tightly up at him, shrugging a little. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. We just -- we didn’t exactly part on great terms.” Her gaze drifts back over to Joy, lingering just a little too long, but the moment passes as their waitress delivers their food, sparing Blaine from having to ask or answer more awkward questions.

They’re all a little quiet for a few minutes as they delve into their food, Blaine ignoring his own plate in favor of helping Joy with her food. Her dexterity is improving all the time, but Blaine still gets a little anxious when she handles utensils, regardless of how dull or sharp they might be. They all eat in relative silence for a while before Rachel breaks the ice again, and this time, it’s easier. She asks questions of Joy, first -- what she likes and what she enjoys doing and what she wants to do. It’s a little heartwarming to watch; Blaine’s had so few opportunities to spend time with people like this, and people almost always ignore Joy when she’s with him. It’s nice to see her included in the conversation -- it’s particularly nice to have the conversation be with Rachel, of all people, because Blaine wouldn’t have expected it of her, given how she and Kurt left things. But that was over three years ago, and Blaine knows how different Kurt is now.

Maybe Rachel has changed, too.

The conversation turns briefly to school again, but Rachel easily redirects it to talking about music and performing, and it’s even easier from there. This is where their common ground was before, and even though Blaine’s dreams have changed since he last knew her, their love is still shared. Rachel regales him with stories of the shows she’s seen -- the masterpieces and the classics, the trainwrecks and the strange, experimental, college pieces (though she does her best to use appropriate euphemisms when she talks about her participation in _Come Back to Me, Grandmother: A Journey into Alzheimer’s_ ). She gushes over seeing the Broadway production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s _Cinderella_ and piques Joy’s interest with descriptions of the magical costume changes. “You should take her,” Rachel advises as their clean plates get taken away, “when she’s old enough, if it’s still active.”

“It’s on my bucket list,” Blaine assures her. “I think she’d really love to see a live show, whatever it is. She’s just so young, still, and my free time usually revolves around her or work or being at home in some capacity. I haven’t been out like this in months.”

Again, something dims in Rachel’s eyes, replaced by something a little more somber. She’s so different than what he was expecting, given how much animosity Kurt still seems to hold for her. There’s a story there, one he’s pretty sure Kurt doesn’t know, but if Rachel’s not volunteering to share, Blaine’s not going to pry it out of her.

She does a little digging of her own, instead.

“Do you, um -- have you heard from Kurt at all?” she ventures.

And there it is.

Joy perks up a little at the mention of Kurt’s name and Blaine can tell that Rachel notices. He figures it’s unavoidable, now. “Yeah,” Blaine answers slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. “We’ve -- we’re in touch.”

Blaine recognizes the flicker that sparks in Rachel’s eyes as hope and tries not to cave. “I wasn’t sure, after -- is he still working for Isabelle?”

Blaine squirms uncomfortably at the question, but he’s momentarily distracted by Joy, who taps at his arm to get him to lift it so she can curl up against his side. Her energy is dying down, too, he can tell, and he knows he’s going to have to wrap things up, soon, before she gets too tired to handle being out in public. He tries to relax, tries not to stress out and wraps his arm around his daughter, keeping her close.

For all that Kurt has been always been Blaine’s anchor, Blaine knows that Joy is an anchor for him, too.

Blaine takes a second to consider Rachel’s question. It’s fairly innocuous in comparison to what she could be asking, instead. It’s not that personal, and it’s not like Rachel couldn’t easily find out the information herself -- assuming she doesn’t already know and is just pretending to fish for information as a precursor to something else. “Yeah,” Blaine affirms, rubbing at the back of his neck uncomfortably with his free hand. “It’s -- I think he’s got a few different projects he’s juggling, but yeah, he’s still working there.” And he waits, then, because he’s expecting a question he doesn’t want to answer, now -- whether or not he and Kurt are back together, if Joy is Kurt’s child.

The question Rachel asks next, though, isn’t one he expects. “Is he happy?”

He’d asked Kurt the same question, back at New Year’s. Kurt had been open to the possibility of it, then. And again, over Valentine’s Day -- but Kurt _was_ happy, then, and he’d been the one to bring it up first. And with all that Blaine’s been able to witness since then, he thinks he believes it. He hears it in Kurt’s voice on the nights when phone calls are the way they say good night. He sees it in the spark of Kurt’s eyes when he talks about work and the unrestrained smiles when he’s on the phone with his father. Blaine feels it in the way Kurt melts into kisses. It’s in every touch of Kurt’s hands on Blaine’s skin, unrestrained and tender and loving. And lately, Blaine has seen it in Kurt’s interactions with Joy -- in the reciprocity of tactility and the shared, simplistic activities. Blaine’s heard it in Kurt’s voice when he sings, and that, more than anything, is proof to Blaine that Kurt is happy.

He tries not to blush and give too much away when he answers Rachel. “Yeah,” he says faintly, glancing down at Joy. “I think he is.”

* * * * *

Without Margaret Thatcher dog, it takes at least two songs to get Joy to fall asleep at night. Tonight, after he’s completed a surprisingly evocative version of “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart makes,” Joy puts in a request for the song about the birds.

She stops him a few bars into “Feed the Birds” and corrects his choice.

“Not that one,” she mumbles sleepily, eyes drooping as she fights to stay awake. “The one Kurt sings.”

He knows without having to ask that she means “Blackbird.”

In the morning, he places an order for an arrangement of a dozen yellow and red roses and has them sent to Kurt’s work on Monday.

And in the quiet, Blaine waits for his moment to arise.

* * * * *

On Wednesday, Blaine wakes up to the sound of Kurt’s voice.

Well, not exactly. Technically, it’s the sound of his phone ringing that wakes him up, but he barely registers the sound as he jolts awake before his hand is fumbling for it in the dark. He answers with a rather bleary _hello?_ and is coaxed into wakefulness by Kurt’s voice. “Hey,” Kurt greets, quiet even to Blaine’s still sensitive ears. “I know it’s early and I probably woke you, but I’m at your door. Can you let me in?”

Blaine rubs tiredly at his eyes and glances over at his alarm clock -- 4:30 in the morning, jesus -- before trying to find enough voice to answer. “Um, yeah,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “Yeah, just -- just give me a second, I’ll be right there.” Disoriented, Blaine hangs up the phone and half rolls out of bed, frame slumped in protest. He uses his phone to light his way down the hall, his fingers fumbling with the locks on the back of the front door as he prepares to let Kurt in.

Kurt looks as tired as Blaine feels, though more apologetic, given the circumstances. Blaine is _beyond_ happy to see him, though, and lets him in with a quiet and hurried wave, shutting and locking the door quietly behind him. It’s an awkward, clumsy dance between them, in the dark -- Blaine almost knocks into him as he reaches out to turn on one of the lamps, and Kurt jerks back and weaves ungracefully around him, moving to sit on the couch.

In the light, Blaine sees Margaret Thatcher in his hands.

At least Blaine knows that Kurt is feeling better. Kurt had left so _suddenly_ that Saturday, complaining about being sick. The stuffed animal had been Joy’s sweet attempt at helping, and while Blaine can’t imagine it did all that much, he thinks the fact that Kurt held onto it as long as he did -- a week and a half -- must’ve been Kurt’s attempt at treating Joy’s offer at least somewhat seriously. Still, Kurt’s sudden reappearance is just as jarring as his departure was, and given the time and how _quiet_ Kurt is, Blaine knows that something is wrong, even though Kurt isn’t ill anymore.

Still a little lethargic, Blaine sinks down on the couch next to him and sets his phone down on the coffee table. “I brought this back,” Kurt says immediately, running a thumb over one of Margaret’s ears.

“Thanks,” Blaine says, fighting back a yawn. “Joy will be glad to have it back. It’s taken a little longer to get her to sleep without it.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping that well either,” Kurt remarks, almost idly. And still, his eyes are trained on the animal in his hands, and Blaine wonders why Kurt won’t look at him. It’s with exhaustion blurring the edges of his vision that Blaine realizes that they haven’t kissed, haven’t touched since Kurt arrived -- since Kurt was last _here_. It’d be the first thing they’d do upon seeing each other, normally -- a kiss, a hug, a brushing of hands, _something_. But right now, there is more than two feet of space between them and Margaret Thatcher occupies Kurt’s hands and Kurt won’t _look at him_.

Blaine reaches for the dog and gently pries her out of Kurt’s hands, setting her on the table. When he goes to reach for Kurt’s hands again, they’re clasped tightly to one another, and Blaine has to settle for resting his hand on Kurt’s thigh. He feels Kurt tense under the touch, and half-asleep at 4:30 on a Wednesday morning, Blaine doesn’t have the energy or mental capacity to beat around the bush. “Kurt, what’s wrong?” he sighs. “You don’t expect me to believe that you came over this early just to bring back Joy’s security blanket, do you?”

Kurt’s still silent for a few minutes, but Blaine doesn’t push; he’s _exhausted_ , moreso than usual, and he figures he can’t really be more direct than he already has been. He doesn’t have the energy or brainpower or observational skills to figure out if this is an instance where Kurt _needs_ to be pushed into talking, but he’s more than willing to wait it out. Raising Joy has made Blaine more tolerant and accepting of being awoken at strange hours, after all.

And then Kurt _finally_ turns to look at him, eyes wet and shoulders sagged, and it’s with the clear strain of held-back emotion that Kurt asks, “How could you not tell me that Joy is my daughter?”

Blaine blinks slowly at him, unsure if he’s heard Kurt correctly. “What?”

“Joy?” Kurt says thickly. “She’s my daughter? _Our_ daughter?”

Kurt knows.

Kurt knows and Blaine hasn’t told him, and Blaine can feel the beginnings of pure panic start to quiver and quake up his sternum. This isn’t how he envisioned this going, not at _all_ , and he’s so thrown by the confrontation that he doesn’t quite know what to _do_ for a moment. The panic threatens to overtake him and he can’t explain _why_ , why this is his first reaction and why he can’t remember any of the words he’s had prepared or why this makes talking about the truth any different than before. Over his chest and down his lungs, out to his arms and just at the bottom of his throat, but the panic stops there, vibrating as Blaine tries to remember how to breathe. He can’t hold Kurt’s hands, not if Kurt won’t let him, but his eyes are the next best thing, and Blaine can see his own panic reflected there -- panic and fear and hurt and confusion and suddenly Kurt’s absence over the last week and a half makes a lot more sense.

Kurt’s a _mess_.

Blaine can’t be.

He _can’t_ , he can’t be a mess. If they both give themselves over to panic and hysteria and emotion, they’ll never get through this discussion. And they have to -- they _have to_ , because this conversation has been over three years in the making and Blaine has waited long enough. It’s not just that he’s ready to talk about it, now -- it’s that Kurt is _asking_ , too.

Kurt uses his voice, and Blaine wakes up.

He’s run out of time. There’s no more _not now, but soon_. Soon is now. Now is his only option. Now is the time for the truth.

This is his moment, and Kurt has given it to him.

Heartbeat thundering him awake, Blaine exhales slowly and tries very, very hard to keep his emotions in check and his voice level and even. “It’s... complicated.” Kurt exhales sharply and tugs his leg out from under Blaine’s hand, dropping his gaze to his lap. Blaine curls his fingers away, stung. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt says, voice thick and uneven and barely there. “I guess I just -- I was half-expecting you to deny it.”

“No,” he says slowly, grateful that he’s too tired to even think about getting angry. “I would never deny it.”

“But you’d keep it from me,” Kurt says sharply, eyes snapping up to look back at Blaine. “And because it’s -- it’s _complicated_ , really? Is that the best you have to offer?”

Blaine averts his eyes to the darkened hallway. “Can you -- please try to be quiet,” he says, lowering his voice in the hopes that Kurt will match his volume. “Joy’s still asleep.” Kurt’s mouth thins into a line, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Blaine takes a breath to steady himself before speaking again, words feeling heavy and thick on his tongue. “It _is_ complicated,” he insists. “And -- no matter what you may believe, Kurt, I’ve never lied to you.”

“Because withholding the truth is so much better, right?” Kurt snaps.

“ _Keep_. Your voice. Down,” Blaine hisses, fixing Kurt with a level gaze. It works -- there’s a shift in Kurt’s demeanor, a tremble in his lip and a softening in the muscles of his face. Still, Blaine doesn’t let himself relax quite yet, unsure if Kurt’s calm enough for them to have this conversation right now. “Will you let me explain?”

“ _Please_ ,” Kurt says, voice tinged with just enough bitterness to give Blaine pause.

Blaine takes a minute to consider him, guilt weighing his shoulders down. “Do you _want_ me to explain,” Blaine asks carefully, “or do you just want permission to be mad at me?”

Kurt’s lips part in slight surprise, and it’s with a worked jaw and guilt in his own eyes that he says, “Both.”

Blaine let his eyes slip shut as he breathes out slowly, and he finds himself suddenly tired again. This is so _different_ than the way they used to argue, before. They’d both had such trouble owning up to faults and addressing the actual issues and making assumptions. But this -- like everything since their reconnection last fall -- is so different, because _they_ are so different. They’re not the same people they used to be. They’re not teenagers. They’re not kids anymore because they _have_ a kid, and no matter how well they’ve been navigating through their issues this time around, they’re still learning. Blaine has no template for this, no map to help him navigate his way through this argument, this discussion, this unveiling of truth. He has only his experience and memory and patience to get him through this. Allowing Kurt to be upset with him -- to feel the way he does -- gives Kurt the opportunity to own up to how he feels and what he wants.

This is Blaine’s opportunity to tell the truth -- to really _explain_ what happened, why he made the choices he did. He’s not -- he doesn’t want to justify his mistakes. He doesn’t want to make excuses. He just wants Kurt to know the truth.

And now Kurt is asking it of him.

Another breath to steady himself, to gather his words and try to find out how to begin, where to start. “Did you know?” Kurt asks before Blaine has the chance to speak, voice much quieter than before. Blaine blinks open his eyes to look at Kurt again, confused. “When you cheated on me, did you -- did you know you were pregnant?”

There’s tension in the line of Kurt’s shoulders, hurt in his eyes, and Blaine has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from reaching out to touch him again. “No,” Blaine promises. “I didn’t find out until after we broke up.”

Kurt’s shoulders fall. “Why didn’t you try to tell me?” he asks, drawing in a little gasp of air at the end of his question.

_God_ , this is exactly what Blaine wanted to avoid. He didn’t want Kurt to get hurt -- he’s _never_ wanted Kurt to get hurt and yet that’s what keeps happening, that’s what Blaine keeps doing. And he feels like it was unavoidable, this time around, because he’s had to sacrifice thinking about Kurt’s feelings in favor of putting Joy first. And Blaine’s just going to keep making it _worse_ , because he has an answer to Kurt’s question, regardless of whether it’s a good one or not. And his words -- the words he wants to say, the words Kurt wants to hear, _needs_ to hear -- are the metaphorical knife that Blaine has to twist a little deeper into Kurt’s chest. “I _did_ try,” Blaine admits softly. “Kurt, I -- I called and left you dozens of messages. I texted. I e-mailed. I even -- god, I even hand-wrote you letters. You wouldn’t -- you wouldn’t even give me the time of day.”

Kurt sucks in a breath and Blaine _knows_ that his last words sound like an accusation. He doesn’t mean for them to. He just -- he needs Kurt to understand what happened, how Joy came into his life, how they got to where they are now. But Blaine also knows that there’s truth in what he’s said, that Kurt’s neglect was part of the reason they fell apart, before, and he knows that Kurt’s feeling the sting of it again now. Blaine can see the guilt in his eyes, heavy and weighted, and he _hates_ it, because that’s not what this is about. They’ve moved on from the break-up, from the reasons behind it. It’s not an excuse or a justification for the topic at hand. It’s just… where the story happens to start. “Why didn’t you come see me?” Kurt asks. “You flew out here immediately to tell me that you’d cheated on me, but you couldn’t do the same to tell me you were pregnant?”

The guilt gets passed between them, and Blaine feels it settle onto his skin, making him uncomfortable. “We weren’t speaking,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I thought -- I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

And then Kurt zigs when Blaine thinks he’s going to zag, and Blaine’s honestly a little impressed that he’s standing his ground. “You could’ve tried harder,” Kurt argues, not bothering to try and mask the emotion in his voice anymore. “You could’ve --” He cuts himself off abruptly, breath sounding shaky and uneven, like the tears are brimming and ready to fall. He looks away, briefly, and wraps his arms around himself. “You could’ve _told_ someone,” Kurt says, looking back at him. “Finn, or -- or my dad. They would’ve talked to me. They would’ve told me. They would’ve made sure I knew.”

Blaine feels the fight melt out of him. “You’re right,” he allows, because he can do this, at the very least. He can validate Kurt’s feelings and admit when Kurt is right and acknowledge that he could’ve done better, that he could’ve made different choices. “But I can’t -- Kurt, I was in a really dark place when I found out I was pregnant with Joy, okay?” He’s said it before, and he knows -- he _knows_ that Kurt remembers because the guilt is off of Blaine’s skin and back in Kurt’s eyes and Blaine just wants to obliterate it entirely. “I wasn’t thinking straight. And I’m not -- I’m not trying to justify what I did or didn’t do, okay? I’m just trying to explain how I felt and why I made the choices I did. I couldn’t -- being at McKinley was hard enough without you. After we broke up, after I found out I was pregnant, I just… wanted to hide. I just wanted to be away from the world for a while. So I left McKinley. I finished out the school year at home.”

The guilt in Kurt’s eyes gives way to something that looks like sadness. “Finn told me,” Kurt says after a moment. “He said that you’d left around the time they started auditions for the musical. I just -- I guess I always figured you went back to Dalton.” A wry, bitter smile, and Kurt looks down at his lap. “That seems silly, in retrospect.”

“It’s not silly,” Blaine assures him. “It was probably the most logical thing to assume. You didn’t have -- you didn’t _know_ , Kurt.”

“No,” Kurt agrees, looking up again. “I didn’t. I didn’t know that you just -- you decided to drop off the face of the earth and raise our child without me.”

It’s Kurt’s words that feel like an accusation, this time, and Blaine is more awake now, enough to feel the sting of them. He feels the bile of resentment rise in his throat and pushes it down and away. He won’t get angry. He _won’t_. He has no _right_ to be angry. Kurt does -- Kurt _is_ , but Blaine can’t think of any other way to comfort him other than to just _keep going_. Blaine’s been working on different versions of this speech for ages, and it’s out there now, the truth. He has to get all of these words out of him, the ones he’s been holding onto for so long. The only thing for him is to just keep going. “That’s… not exactly true,” Blaine counters carefully. “At least -- not in the way you’re thinking. That wasn’t my original plan.”

Kurt unfurls a little, muscles and limbs relaxing a fraction, and he both looks and sounds less upset when he asks, “So what _was_ the plan, then?”

It’s encouraging that Kurt’s even _listening_ , that he wants Blaine’s version of the truth as much as Blaine wants to give it to him. Blaine scoots a little closer on the couch but doesn’t make any move to try and initiate contact. “I wanted a clean slate,” Blaine sighs. “So I had a plan to carry the baby to term and give it up for adoption so that when I went to college the next fall, I could start fresh.”

Kurt unfurls the rest of the way, hands resting in his lap, but his eyes are still clouded with confusion. “Obviously that didn’t happen,” Kurt says quietly. “What changed?”

Blaine inhales sharply and breaks eye contact for the first time in several moments, remembering the series of events that he has to try and recreate for Kurt with just words. “About two weeks before my due date, my uncle -- he had this sudden surgery. My dad went out to be with him and my aunt. And my mom -- she’d had this conference in Chicago scheduled for ages. It was all just really bad timing, but they still -- they managed to coordinate and plan and make it so that there was only one day where their trips overlapped and I’d be in Ohio on my own.”

Kurt exhales slowly. “And Joy had really inconvenient timing.”

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, the pain of the memory hitting him hard for a heartbeat. “I was alone when I went into labor. I managed to get myself to the hospital, but all of my plans just… went out the window after that. And I had _plans_ ,” he says, half-gasping as he opens his eyes to look back up at Kurt. “I wanted one of my parents with me. I didn’t want to see the baby. I didn’t want to hold it. I knew it’d be impossible to give the baby up for adoption if I did. But once I got to the hospital, it just -- I was in so much pain that I could hardly breathe, much less tell anyone there what my plans had been, and Joy just came so _fast_ that there wasn’t even time to really think about it. And then they just --”

Blaine clamps his lips shut, trying to hold the words in his mouth, emotions bubbling up the back of his throat. Because this -- _this_ is the part he can’t _not_ be emotional about. He feels suddenly eighteen again, exhausted and strung-out and absolutely gobsmacked by the overwhelming weight of his feelings for his little girl. He takes a breath to try and steady himself, but he’s only half-successful, and this time it’s his voice that’s laced with emotion. “I _know_ it’s a cliche, but I just -- they put her on -- on my chest,” he explains, tapping his chest to remind himself of the feeling, “and they let me hold her and I just --” And his heart is absolutely pounding in his chest and he can hardly catch his breath and he can’t do this, he can’t let his emotions get the best of him. He’s not done, he still has words in him, still has story to tell, answers to give. But Kurt is quiet and listening and he won’t look _away_ , now, and Blaine inhales sharply just to give himself some air. “She has your nose,” Blaine says, like that explains everything, and his voice starts to pitch a little high and no, no, no, he’s not going to get hysterical. “She had your nose and it just -- it really hit me, then, that this was a person we’d created and I’d carried around for nine months and she was just… kind of perfect and I thought --” And the words get caught in his throat and he finds himself unable to speak, to admit the things he’s not sure he wants to admit.

“You thought?” Kurt prompts, voice barely there.

Blaine closes his eyes, air coming out of him in a rush. “I thought that if I could do that -- if I could bring something good into the world, someone who had every opportunity in the world, someone who could love me like that -- then maybe there was still hope for me.” Blaine opens his eyes and hates feeling the hot sting of tears on his lashes. He breathes in and manages to keep the tears at bay. “And, maybe -- a little selfishly -- it was a way to keep a piece of you with me.”

Blaine keeps his tears inside, but Kurt lets his fall.

It’s almost like a strange sort of turntable transference between them -- Blaine’s emotions building, threatening to take over, Kurt releasing his own in an attempt to rein them in. Blaine’s almost out of words, now, and it’s Kurt who speaks instead, Kurt who finds his voice. “And, um --” Kurt clears his throat and looks away, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand shakes violently as he tries to wipe his tears away. “And then?” Kurt asks, sounding almost as broken as he had in Battery Park, years ago. He sniffs a little and looks back over at Blaine, face red and raw and broken open despite his attempts at composure. “Why didn’t you try to tell me then?”

Blaine leans against the back of the couch, barely managing a shrug. “I guess I just -- I felt like that chapter was closed, to me,” he explains. “I was just trying to move on. But I --” And here is where he finds some of the confidence he’d lost moments ago, and he tries to use it to his advantage while he has it, fingertips brushing against Kurt’s arm. “Kurt, I’ve always believed that you have _every_ right to know. And I -- I told myself that if I ever saw you again, I’d be open to telling you the truth.”

“But you _didn’t_ ,” Kurt says thickly, and oh, there goes the transference again, emotions weighing Kurt down, instead. Still, he doesn’t pull his arm away. “You didn’t tell me -- not when we ran into each other back in September, not when I met Joy in October, not when we got back together in February --”

“I wanted to,” Blaine insists, trying not to grab Kurt’s arm. “I was _going_ to. You just... beat me to it.”

Kurt inhales sharply. “Is that what the flowers were about?”

“Partly,” Blaine admits, moving a little closer. “We also just kind of… missed you.”

Another sharp inhale, and Kurt’s eyes drift to where Margaret Thatcher is perched on the coffee table. Blaine can see him trying to maintain control, can see it in the tense lines of his muscles and the way he sits up a little straighter and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. And it occurs to Blaine, then, that for all that he’s had his own words stored up, Kurt probably has just as many questions, and Blaine is not the only one with a list to follow and an agenda to keep. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

Blaine curls his fingers away nervously, stomach twisting in knots. “The short answer? I… honestly wasn’t sure how long you were going to stick around.” That gets Kurt to look at him again, and the expression on Kurt’s face is at least familiar, even if it is a mix of confused indignance punctuated by an arched eyebrow. “I didn’t know that getting coffee would turn into us eventually becoming friends again,” Blaine elaborates, pulling his hand away a little more to put a little space between them. “After you met Joy, I started thinking about telling you. I just -- I wasn’t sure how, at first. And then --”

“And then?” Kurt prompts, sounding almost hesitant to ask.

It’s Blaine’s turn to curl his arms around his middle and look down at his lap, now. And he hates this, hates that he feels like he should feel bad for what he’s thought about and felt and what he’s about to say. “And then I had my priorities set straight.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” Kurt asks slowly, something shifting in his tone.

Blaine sighs and squeezes at his sides. “I thought I knew what the worst-case scenario was, back then.”

“But you didn’t?” Kurt asks, sounding confused.

Blaine shakes his head and looks back up, water weighing down his eyes. _God_ , he’s so tired. “I thought -- I thought the worst that could happen is that you’d leave and we’d never see you again,” he admits, the words feeling bitter on his tongue.

Kurt’s eyes narrow, mouth tightening, and Blaine’s heart aches at seeing Kurt this hurt. But it’s so much _more_ than just hurt -- it’s guilt, too, because Kurt knows that he could do that, because he’s done it before. But that was over three years ago and they’re _different_ , now. That’s the whole point of this, and those are words Blaine can keep tucked in his chest for later, when Kurt’s hurt turns into protest. “So what exactly have you imagined is the worst that could happen?” Kurt asks, voice coming out a little strangled in his attempt to keep control.

Blaine tries to keep his apology out of his voice and in his eyes. “I had to consider the possibility of you being okay with all of this,” Blaine explains, calm and clear. And oh, there is his reason and control again, keeping his emotions and hysteria at bay. He has words again, still has things to explain, and as long as he has this, as long as he can keep talking, as long as he follows a script, he can get them through this. “And I had to think about -- I had to think about what it would be like to explain everything to Joy. And I thought about what it would be like if she embraced you as her father, if she got attached. And the worst case scenario, after all of that, would be you changing your mind.” Blaine exhales sharply through his nose and tries not to sound cold, steeling himself for Kurt’s reaction to his last words. “I waited because I couldn’t let that happen, Kurt. I wasn’t going to let her heart get broken. And while you were gone this last week and a half, she _missed you_. She’s already getting attached and she doesn’t even know the truth, and _that_ is why I was getting ready to tell you now.”

The hurt in Kurt’s eyes catches fire. “I can’t believe you actually think I’m capable of hurting that sweet girl,” Kurt breathes, sounding far less heated and angry than Blaine was expecting.

“It’s not like that,” Blaine sighs, trying to sound patient. “It was just a possibility I had to consider, Kurt. I’m her father -- I have to protect her.”

“From me,” Kurt says brokenly, and Blaine can hear Kurt’s heart practically _shatter_ in his throat.

“Kurt, _no_ ,” Blaine gasps, tears stinging at his eyes again because this is awful, he doesn’t want this, he’s never wanted this. Kurt has lost his voice and Blaine has to give it back to him, has to make Kurt understand. Blaine feels _dizzy_ with it, lost and weightless and longing. He reaches for Kurt’s hands to anchor himself and Kurt doesn’t pull away, hands shaking in Blaine’s grasp. “Look, we’re not -- we’re not perfect. We’re going to mess up. We’re going to make mistakes. And it’s -- it’s okay if she sees that, because she can learn from it, too. But we can’t take risks and make mistakes that could hurt her like that, Kurt, because that’s what being a parent _is_. And I had to --” Blaine almost loses his resolve, here, because for all that their hands are joined between them, Kurt still looks lost. Blaine lifts a hand to cradle Kurt’s jaw and force eye contact; it’s the most intimately they’ve touched in a week and a half, but Kurt doesn’t move, stays rooted to the spot. “I had to make sure you could understand that before I could tell you.”

Kurt lets out of a huff and pulls away, hunching over and resting his elbows on his knees. “So another test?”

“No,” Blaine says. “I just… had to make sure you were ready.”

Kurt lets out a disbelieving noise and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know that I could ever really be ready to hear something like this, Blaine.”

“It’s not just about hearing it, though,” Blaine points out gently. “It’s deciding what to do with the truth now that you have it. You -- you have options, Kurt.” That gets Kurt to look at him again, and the panic Blaine had felt earlier is in Kurt’s expression, now, unguarded and frozen. And Blaine still has words to spare, can still be the one to balance out the spattering of emotions Kurt’s trying to deal with. “You have the choice to walk away, if you want to,” Blaine says, and it _kills_ him to say it because even though Kurt has free will and can make whatever choice he wants, it’s not the choice Blaine wants him to make. “But -- if you don’t,” Blaine continues, pressing on in the hopes that some of the other options sound more appealing to Kurt, “if you choose to stay and try and be a father to her, I’d never begrudge you that, Kurt. But it -- it comes with conditions.”

“Conditions.”

“Yes,” Blaine says emphatically, standing his ground. “You don’t -- you don’t have to be with me to be a father to her,” he says, voice quiet and barely there. In all of this, they haven’t talked about them, where they’re at, where they’re going, if there’s any future for them at all. Kurt’s _beyond_ upset that Blaine has kept this from him for so long, and while Blaine can absolutely understand Kurt not being able to get past it in terms of their relationship, he hopes.

He always hopes. He lives on hope. He thrives on hope.

It was Kurt who gave him home, a long time ago.

It was Joy who took Kurt’s place.

Blaine doesn’t want to live without either of them, now.

Longing bubbling in his gut, Blaine tries to stay focused, calm and rational. “But if you --” He stops and takes a second to clear his throat, wanting to sound as sure as possible. “If you want to be with me, Kurt, you have to be a father to her. And I think you’ve known that for a while.” Kurt’s expression softens, momentarily, and Blaine knows they’re both thinking of what he’d witnessed in the kitchen a few weeks ago -- Joy in Kurt’s lap and Kurt’s affectionate touches and tender kisses.

But the moment passes all too quickly and Kurt is on his feet, rubbing his hands along the material of his pants covering his thighs. “You can’t expect me to make a decision like that right now, Blaine,” he breathes, fingers flexing anxiously.

“I’m not expecting you to make one right now,” Blaine assures him. “I know this is a lot to process. You can take all the time you need, Kurt.”

But Kurt barely seems to hear him as he paces the floor. Blaine can hear how heavy his breathing is from several feet away, and it’s that -- the beginnings of a manifestation of Kurt’s panic -- that causes Blaine to sit up all the way again, perching close to the edge of the couch. “You have no idea what it’s been like for me,” Kurt says, words tumbling out all in a rush. “I spent a week thinking that you were raising the child of the person you’d cheated on me with --”

Blaine’s nose wrinkles as he remembers. “Is that what all of those questions were about?”

“-- and then the answers to my questions weren’t what I expected and I had to do the math,” Kurt continues, ignoring him. “And I was standing in that bathroom looking at her reflection in the mirror and --” He stops, suddenly, spinning around to finally look Blaine in the eye again. “She has my nose, Blaine,” Kurt says thickly, and oh _no_ , this is bad. Kurt’s lost control of his emotions and reactions again and it’s okay, he’s entitled to it, but Blaine is out of words which means he has nothing left to ground him. All he’s left with is the frenzy of Kurt’s energy and panic and Blaine’s heart is beating fast again, no, no, no, _keep it together_.

“It’s why you left,” Blaine guesses, grasping for logic and rationale.

“I had to get out,” Kurt gasps, resuming pacing. “I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t be around you and I just needed my own space to try and get my head on straight. And then I _couldn’t_ , because all I could think about was the fact that you didn’t tell me. I didn’t --” Again, he stops, this time just on the other side of the arm of the couch, and Blaine can see just how hard Kurt is trying not to cry. “I couldn’t bring myself to think about the fact that that sweet, adoring little girl sleeping down the hall is _my daughter_ ,” Kurt gasps, tears spilling onto his face. “And I have _no idea_ what I’m supposed to do with that information and I was so upset with you and I was hardly sleeping and my work suffered and then you sent me those fucking flowers, _god_ ,” he rants, voice too-loud for the hour.

Blaine rockets up off of the couch and reaches for him, needing his anchor, needing the quiet for Joy, needing to keep Kurt together. He encloses a hand around Kurt’s forearm and doesn’t let go. “Lower your voice, _please_ ,” he begs.

A beat, and then Kurt has him pressed up against the wall, lips pressed against Blaine’s in a sharp, stinging, and yet somehow surprisingly soft kiss. Blaine gives into it without question or surprise and uses his grip on Kurt’s arm to pull Kurt flush against him, body warm in the early morning cold. Another kiss, this time with a slip of tongue, and Blaine’s free hand moves up so he can rake his fingers through the hair at the back of Kurt’s head. Kurt’s hands squeeze tight at Blaine’s waist in response and Blaine loves him, loves him, loves him and he doesn’t care if his heart beats out of his chest, now. With all of the doubt and uncertainty the future holds, Blaine has this -- has _them_ , has an anchor to remind him that whenever one of them gets lost, they will always find their way back to each other.

He hopes.

A sharp inhale, and then Kurt’s gone -- mouth and hands and body and _everything_ \-- and by the time Blaine manages to pull himself together enough to open his eyes, all he sees is the front door clicking shut behind Kurt.

Slumped against the wall and barely breathing, Blaine feels cold.

Alone.

He feels like there’s a choice, in that half-moment: he can choose to push himself up off of the wall and follow Kurt out into the hall, to try and reason with him and make him come back, or he can choose to stay here for Joy, and be here when his daughter wakes up in a couple of hours. But the thing about this choice is that it _isn’t_ a choice, because Blaine _can’t leave her_ , and he will always choose her, first, always, above all else.

He doesn’t want to have to choose between them. He hopes that’s not what this has come to.

He hopes.

Margaret Thatcher stares at him from the coffee table and Blaine finds himself feeling absolutely _drained_. He takes another second to gather himself before reaching out for the toy and his phone, checking the time.

5 a.m.

4:30 feels like a _lifetime_ ago, and Blaine wants nothing more than to go back to sleep for another hour before he has to get up to shower and face the rest of his day. But not for the first time, Blaine feels the impression Kurt has left behind, and it’s only worse when Blaine thinks about Kurt’s spare toothbrush in the bathroom and the coat hanging up in the front closet and the sections of closet and dresser space he’d cleared out for Kurt’s clothes weeks ago.

For the first time in a long time, Blaine doesn’t feel at home, and with exhaustion settling back into his bones, he feels like he’s suffocating.

His hand grips Margaret Thatcher a little tighter, and Blaine knows what he needs.

Joy.

Quietly, he makes his way down the hall and enters her bedroom, keeping the door ajar slightly and turning on the dimmest lamp. Joy doesn’t wake up or react, thankfully, so Blaine moves to her bed and carefully tries to tuck Margaret Thatcher under her arm. Joy’s breathing alters just slightly when he touches her, but she doesn’t react much beyond that and a wrinkling of her nose, and when Blaine lets her arm go, she pulls Margaret Thatcher close and sleeps on with ease. With a heavy sigh, Blaine sets his phone to silent and deposits it on her nightstand before sinking down in the rocking chair.

And in the comfort of his daughter’s room, Blaine feels warm and stays awake.

* * * * *


	12. Chapter 12

Kurt Hummel’s daughter is keeping him up at night.

God, even the thought is just kind of… insane. Kurt has a daughter to keep him up at night, but she’s a toddler, not an infant. Kurt has a daughter to keep him up at night, but they don’t live together and he hasn’t seen her in weeks. Kurt has a daughter to keep him up at night, which means he’s surviving on Ambien and copious amounts of coffee.

Kurt has a daughter, and if he thinks about it too much or for too long, it settles into his blood and bones and genes and reminds him that he’s a father. He’s a father and he has a daughter who’s practically three, and it’s like she’s sprung into existence out of nowhere and consumes _everything_. He can’t not think about her, can’t avoid thinking about her or her other father or how they got to where they are now.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to move forward. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know where he’s at.

He feels like he doesn’t know himself at all, and what’s worse -- he’s _scared_ to try and find out, and he hates it.

So he thinks about her -- about _them_ constantly without really thinking about them. He doesn’t sleep because he sees their faces when he closes his eyes. And work isn’t a distraction because he can’t function properly when he’s this tired. He feels like a complete mess and he’s sure he looks it, too. He can tell because Isabelle can tell, because Isabelle notices. Isabelle always notices.

On Friday, she closes his computer for him and temporarily snaps him out of his lethargic state of half-consciousness. “I’m not going to ask,” she says. “I’m assuming this is about Blaine and maybe Joy, but I know you, Kurt, and I’m not going to ask because it’s not going to help.”

Kurt blinks tiredly at her and relaxes against the back of his chair. “It’s not?”

Isabelle sighs dramatically at him. “No, honey, it’s not. If you were going to tell me, you would’ve done it by now. I know when you need to be pushed, but I also know that I’m not the right person to do it. So I’m pushing you elsewhere.”

“But --”

“No buts,” she says firmly, still managing to sound gentle and god, Kurt loves her. “Kurt, you look awful. You’re practically asleep at your desk half of the day and your productivity is pretty much non-existent right now. You’re _useless_ to me like this.” Kurt groans and sinks his head into his hands, elbows propped up on his desk as he rubs tiredly at his eyes. It takes so much longer to make sense of thoughts and words, and even longer to get them out of his mouth, so by the time he feels like he can even muster up an apology, Isabelle’s already speaking again. “Take at least the weekend,” she insists. “Catch up on some sleep.”

“I’m trying,” he sighs, hating how thick his voice sounds. It only gets like that when he’s close to tears, and he hates that this is how he feels all of the time, now, like he’s always on the verge of tears because he’s so tired. “I can’t.”

Isabelle’s quiet for a moment. “What would help you sleep?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles.

“Okay, then what would make you feel better?” she tries. “What do you feel like you _need_?”

Kurt lifts his head and blinks to clear his vision a little, and as the truth settles in his bones again (he has a _child_ ), he knows the answer to her question. He knows, now, what he needs to help make sense of everything he’s carrying around. “I kind of just… want to see my dad,” he admits.

“So go see your dad,” Isabelle says, like it’s that easy. It’s always easy for her, because she’s the boss and she’s the one who dictates the decisions. Then again, she’s the boss and she’s basically dictating that he go. God, Kurt’s brain is just going in circles at this point. “Go to Ohio and see your dad, get some sleep, and if you want to work remotely for the next week or so, then do it, Kurt. I’d rather you take some personal time to pull yourself together than force you to work like this. You and I both know you’re capable of better. It’s my job to get you there.”

“But the webseries --” he protests weakly.

“-- is still in the planning stages,” she argues. “And Kurt Hummel, if you think I’m letting you give people makeovers when you’re in this condition, you’re _crazy_.”

Kurt manages a smile. This time, he’s not just falling. He’s _fallen_ , as in past tense, as in he’s hit the ground hard and the impact has knocked everything out of him. But Isabelle’s safety net is still here -- and to some extent, will probably almost always be available to him -- and it’s caught him again when his life has crumbled to pieces. She’s caught him when _he_ has crumbled to pieces, and even though she doesn’t know what all of the pieces are or even why he’s fallen apart, she catches them and gives them back to him and gives him opportunities to put them -- _himself_ \-- back together.

He’d told her, back in February, that he’d felt like the world was full of opportunities for him again. And she’s always given him opportunities and he’s always taken them. He realizes, now, that what they’re working on, what they’re planning to do is give people opportunities for change, for a fresh start, but he can’t do that unless he feels like he has opportunity again.

He remembers Blaine telling him almost the exact same thing -- about how Blaine had just wanted a fresh start, a clean slate, and even though it wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for, Joy was the one to give him the opportunity to do it.

Kurt knows what his opportunities, his choices are. Blaine had made them all very clear to him. And it’s not like Kurt hasn’t thought about them -- he’d thought about some of them even before he’d known the truth, at least in vague terms. He’d started to come to terms with the idea that he might be growing into a parent, that he could be a father to Joy.

Somehow it’s different, now, knowing that he _is_ her father. Maybe it’s because he had a choice, then, and he doesn’t now that he knows. Which is -- it’s _stupid_ , because Kurt has a choice, he has multiple choices. Opportunity is in front of him, but Kurt has absolutely no idea what to do with it.

And even though he’s a father, he’s felt very much like he’s needed his own, lately.

“You’re right,” Kurt admits with a sigh, pushing himself to his feet and engulfing her in a warm, bone-tired hug. “You’re always right, aren’t you?”

A laugh bubbles out of Isabelle as she wraps her arms around him, hands rubbing soothingly at his back. “Oh, honey. You and I both know how many times it takes me to get it right, sometimes.”

He ignores the self-deprecating dig and tries not to think about Rachel. “Thank you, Fairy Godmother,” he mumbles into her shoulder, trying not to sag too heavily against her.

She pulls back and rests a hand on his shoulder, eyes warm and maybe a little sad. “Fairy godmothers need someone to dote on,” she reasons. She hesitates, then adds, “You know I’m only a replacement for the real thing. Go _home_ , Kurt,” she says, squeezing his shoulder affectionately.

Kurt bites his lip and tries not to let his nerves get the best of him at the thought of leaving New York for Ohio (and, the back of his mind supplies, leaving one family for another). “I want to see my dad,” he insists, speaking slowly. “I’m just… not so sure that it’s home, anymore.”

* * * * *

On the plane during the flight to Ohio, Kurt closes his eyes and sees home.

* * * * *

Kurt misses Friday night dinner.

It’s kind of unavoidable, given the fact that the flight he books leaves fairly late and he doesn’t end up unlocking his parents’ front door until close to one in the morning. He’s so tired that he barely remembers to lock the door behind him, and it’s all he can do to keep quiet as he trudges up the stairs to his old room with his suitcase and messenger bag. He somehow manages to miss the squeaky step and doesn’t bang his suitcase against the wall. In his old bedroom, Kurt can’t help thinking of Blaine, however fleeting his thoughts may be at this hour. So in an effort to try and quiet his mind and his heart, Kurt skips his nighttime moisturizing routine for the first time in ages and doesn’t bother changing into real pajamas.

It’s always an adjustment, being back here, because while his room is still his (it hasn’t been converted into a full guest bedroom like Finn’s had been ages ago), it’s full of less personal trinkets and decorations and touches than it was when he lived here. Again, Kurt is struck with the feeling that he’s uncomfortable in his own skin, so he strips himself down to his undershirt and boxer briefs and faceplants into a pillow, kicking clumsily at the duvet and sheets in order to burrow under them.

It’s dark and quiet and his parents are just down the hall, and it’s all enough to make him forget for a little while -- forget that he isn’t a teenager anymore, forget that there’s someone missing from this house, forget that he got Blaine pregnant in this bed.

Shaking, Kurt curls the duvet closer around his body and tries to remember what it was like to be seventeen, what it was like to still be a child in need of a parent.

In his old bedroom, Kurt closes his eyes and finally gives himself over to sleep.

* * * * *

Kurt wakes up in stages, one sense at a time. His body responds to Carole -- her lips against his forehead, the gentle murmur of her voice, the aroma of her perfume, the catching glitter of her wedding ring, the soothing cold of the water she brings him on his tongue. She doesn’t keep him awake long, doesn’t hover too much, but her presence lingers even after she’s gone.

In her wake, Kurt feels like he’s lost his mother all over again.

So he responds the way he did the first time -- he drags himself out of bed regardless of how heavy his heart is and pulls himself together for his dad. Because this, at least, is familiar to Kurt. He’d come here looking for solace and advice, to be in a familiar place. But this has always been so much easier to do, to pour all of his effort into taking care of his dad, first. He’s done it since he was eight, even when it wasn’t exactly necessary anymore. It’s always been a little backwards, but it’s what’s worked for them, and in a way, Kurt feels like he _needs_ this. He needs to be able to fall back on something like this -- something he’s good at, something that makes him comfortable. It’s a little ridiculous because Kurt _knows_ that he doesn’t need to do nice things for his dad in order to ask for help, but that’s the thing -- Kurt doesn’t like asking for help. He never has. And he knows that part of the reason for that is because when he’s needed help, it’s been almost impossible to get it.

Blaine had understood that, when they’d first met.

Kurt misses him, even now -- _especially_ now. He’d gone to sleep feeling like he was seventeen and woke up feeling eight. His mentality is so different from what it normally is now, from what he’s grown into. He thinks he’s starting to understand why the revelation hit him so hard; he’s so much more an adult, now, particularly around Blaine and Joy, and with adulthood comes the reality that there aren’t the same allowances that come with childhood and adolescence. There’s responsibility and accountability, sure, but there’s no room to breathe, no time to cope. Blaine’s had years to grow into being a parent. Kurt’s not exactly on a specific timeline, but he knows that one exists, that he can’t take forever to make up his mind. The truth about Joy has left him shell-shocked and suffocating.

His dad has always given him room to breathe.

So Kurt uses the fact that he slept for over nine hours to his advantage and hops into the shower to wake himself up a little more. Carole has coffee waiting for him when he gets downstairs (close to eleven, god, he hasn’t slept in like this in ages). She helps him put together a picnic lunch to take to his dad at the garage, and together, they work in silence, hips bumping into each other at the counter. She doesn’t ask questions, and Kurt is reminded of why he’d grown to love her, in the beginning. She’s been more of a companion than a parent to him because that’s what works for them. She doesn’t push him the way his dad does, doesn’t pry information out of him or imagine him as a child.

That had changed, with Finn’s death. Kurt thinks it was unavoidable. They’ve been family to one another for years, of course, stepmother and stepson, but the loss of Finn left a hole in their family. And in an attempt to fill it, Kurt and Carole had reached out to each other and woven their fraying ends together. Their attempts at a newer form of intimacy led them to using touch to communicate, and it’s there, in the touch of hands and fingers, that they’d become more than just companions to one another. It’s always been difficult for Kurt to be comfortable with people touching him, but with certain people it’s always been easy -- his dad, Mercedes, Blaine, Isabelle. Touch with Rachel had always been a wild card, as had touch with Finn, but that’s sort of what made the transition easier for Kurt with Carole.

He’d provided her with a son to dote on, and she’d kept a piece of Finn alive.

Kurt thinks he understands, now, why Blaine had decided to keep Joy.

And then Kurt remembers that Carole is -- she’s not a replacement. She’s not his mother. But she’s motherly in a way that Kurt can accept, and it’s not lost on Kurt that she has taken the place of someone he’s lost. They’ve both lost so _much_ in their lifetimes, regardless of how short or long, and as he packs the last of the lunch and utensils into the basket, he feels the old and familiar sting and ache of loss acutely. He’d spent half of his childhood and all of his adolescence without his own mother, and he wonders how different things would be, now, if his mother were still here. He wonders how differently he’d feel about Carole if she’d come into the picture when he was much younger, when he would’ve been barely old enough to even remember his real mom.

_She missed you_ , Blaine had said.

He’s been missing from Joy’s life for so long. If she comes first, shouldn’t she have a say in whether or not he gets to _be_ her father?

God, Kurt wants a three-year-old to make a life-altering decision for him.

This is ridiculous.

“So,” Carole sighs, leaning against the counter and sparing Kurt the incredulity of anymore petulant thoughts. “I’m assuming the picnic lunch is an icebreaker.” Kurt _hmms_ in confirmation, not wanting to go into detail just yet. He’s achieved a decent amount of sleep. Food comes next. Then spilling his guts to his dad. He reaches for some travel mugs and starts to tuck them into the basket, his movements slowing when Carole leans back in and rubs comfortingly at his shoulder. “I’m here if you need me, okay?” she murmurs, kissing the material of his shirt stretched over his bicep. Kurt presses an affectionate kiss to her forehead and closes his eyes.

He’s scared of this, scared of being this close to his parents and how they make him feel and how they remind him of his situation. Mostly, he’s afraid of how they’re serving as a prodding and persistent reminder of what he’s terrified of facing -- what it is he really wants.

Because beneath everything else, Kurt remembers what it’s felt like in the months since his reconnection with Blaine. He still feels that tug, that invisible pull, that desire to want to do things right this time, to be there for Blaine. But this time, being there for Blaine also involves being there for Joy, and Kurt can’t just _ignore_ the fact that before he knew the truth, he wanted to be there for her, too.

The scary thing is that he’s not really sure that feeling has gone away, now that he knows he’s her father. Isabelle had asked, back in February, if Kurt thought he was meant to grow into being a parent. The scary thing is that he thinks his answer is yes, and even though his heart is heavy, it’s still beating. His dad has always encouraged him to be himself, regardless of the circumstances or naysayers.

And now that Kurt knows he’s Joy’s father (well, one of them, anyway), he needs his own to make sure he doesn’t lose himself.

* * * * *

Kurt barely crosses the threshold of the garage before his dad spots him. “Hey,” he greets warmly, wiping off his hands. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Kurt manages a small smile and holds up the picnic basket. “I brought lunch.”

His dad barks out a laugh. “Why don’t you go set up in the bed of the truck? I’ll clean up and join you in a few. I already told the guys I was taking a half-day. And _don’t_ argue with me, okay?”

Kurt holds up a hand in surrender before spinning on his heel and making his way back outside. The bed of the truck is partially parked under one of the building’s awnings, so he has the option of staying out of the sun, if he wants. He feels awkwardly long-limbed and gangly as he clambers into the bed of his dad’s pick-up truck, and he _hates this_ , hates how uncomfortable he feels in his own skin. He shouldn’t feel that, not here. Kurt spent half of his childhood in this garage, got his hands dirty and learned his way around a car and bonded with his dad. The people here were a second family to him, and even though there were some growing pains around the time he came out, they’re still here. They’re still family, and Kurt knows that part of who he is was built in that garage.

He has this, at least. He has his history here -- the knowledge in his brain and the skill in his hands and the blood of the owner. And his history -- his _family_ have helped shape him into who he is today. It’s why he’s here, because if he can get his dad to help him, if he can just… remember where he’s come from, then maybe he can get a better handle on where he’s at and decide where he wants to go.

Kurt takes his father’s hand to help him up into the truck and remembers the last time he’d held someone’s hand.

Joy.

They’re quiet as Kurt unpacks the basket and distributes the food between them, but the salad dressing he’d packed serves as the ice-breaker he knows he needs. “What’s this?” his dad asks, unscrewing the lid and taking a sniff.

“An apple-raspberry vinaigrette,” Kurt answers absently, unearthing the utensils and handing a set over. “I made it this morning.”

His dad grins and leans against the truck, bending a knee comfortably. “You know,” his dad muses, stabbing at the salad, “sometimes I wonder how you didn’t end up in culinary school.”

Kurt flicks his eyes up deliberately and offers his dad a wry smile. “Being in the kitchen relaxes me. If I tried to turn cooking into a career, I’d probably go crazy. It’d suck all of the fun out of it.”

His dad reaches for a travel mug and briefly eyes the spritzer inside with a weary eye before taking a sip. “Does that mean you’re having a good time at work, still? You seemed pretty excited about what you’re doing now -- what is it, that new web series or something?”

Kurt nods, smiling dimming a little as he pokes idly at his salad. “Yeah, it’s fine. We’re just -- it’s still in the planning stages, so I haven’t quite gotten to the fun stuff yet. But I’ve been a little… unfocused, lately.”

His dad doesn’t look up at him, but he doesn’t need to for Kurt to know that the stalling is pretty much at an end. “So is that why you’re here?” his dad pries. “Isabelle basically told you to take some mental health days and go see your old man?”

Kurt rolls his eyes and sets his salad aside. “She suggested I work from home for a week,” he admits, trying not to sound irritated. “I was the one who decided to come and see you.”

It’s his dad’s turn to set aside his salad, and it’s with his hands folded over his lap that he says, “Well, you’re here now, kiddo, might as well start talking.”

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs in annoyance. “Dad, I’m twenty-three --”

“Yeah, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you’re not my kid anymore,” his dad throws back. “I’m your dad, Kurt, I’m supposed to know you well enough to push you.”

And still, Kurt can’t bring himself to look his dad in the eye, but he knows when to throw in the towel with his dad, and out of time, Kurt finds himself suddenly very tired again. He’s done fighting. So he lies down on the bed of the truck, folds his hands over his abdomen, and closes his eyes. And for the second time in a week, Kurt gets ready to let the truth fall from his lips. “You’re... not the only parent in this car.”

A beat, and then, “You want to run that by me one more time?”

Kurt takes a breath to steady himself and flexes his fingers. “Joy is… my child,” he says, slow and clear and maybe with just a touch of incredulity.

His dad lets out a heavy sigh. “That’s, uh -- okay, I guess I didn’t realize that things were that serious,” he says, clearly trying to sound patient. “So it’s -- what’s the plan, exactly? Adoption, or -- are you guys getting married? Jesus, is that what this is about, Kurt, because it’s hard enough being married. It’s hard enough being in your twenties --?”

“What, no,” Kurt huffs. “It’s not like that. It’s -- Joy is _mine_. Biologically, she’s mine.” And wow, the words fell out of his mouth a lot easier than he thought they would. But his dad doesn’t say anything, and instead of silence, Kurt is met with the sounds of machinery from the shop and traffic from the road. It’s almost comforting, in a way, and even though Kurt still feels overwhelmed, he feels enough tension melt out of his shoulders that he feels comfortable enough to loll his head to the side and finally look at his dad again. “I… got Blaine pregnant before I moved to New York.”

Jesus, that sounds bad.

To his credit, his dad manages to hold eye contact for another minute before looking away, rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “And you’re just finding this out now?” his dad guesses.

Kurt swallows the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he answers quietly.

Another weighted sigh from his dad, and Kurt can recognize the patient frustration and confusion and attempt at understanding in his dad’s voice. “Okay, so why -- why now? Why didn’t you know before now? Did Blaine not know, or did he not tell you, or --”

“It’s… kind of a long story,” Kurt sighs.

And amazingly, his dad’s mouth twitches into a small smile. “I got time,” his dad assures him, “and from the sound of things, so do you. This is why you’re here, bud, isn’t it?”

Kurt feels his heart lift a little. “Yeah,” he admits, feeling a little relieved, “it is.”

So Kurt talks. He backtracks and starts at the beginning and tells the story the best he can. He tries not to leave a lot out, tries to repeat things that Blaine has said, tries to make sure his dad has all of the information that’s boomeranging around in Kurt’s head. The adult in Kurt knows that he can often be an unreliable narrator, biased and defensive. It’s the adult in him who’s trying to avoid being that way because he _knows_ it’s counter-productive. And more than anything, he just wants to get _through_ this, because he hates where he’s at -- he hates not really knowing where he’s at. So he talks and his dad listens and occasionally asks questions, and somehow Kurt manages to get his dad up to speed to where things are at now.

By the end of it, they’re lying side by side in the bed of the truck -- Kurt in the dark under the shade of the awning, his dad illuminated by sunlight.

“Okay, so what… exactly is it that you want from me, Kurt?” his dad asks, sounding a little hesitant.

“Help,” Kurt asks, trying not to sound like a whining, petulant child. “I don’t -- I don’t know what kind of decision I’m supposed to make.”

“Kurt,” his dad says gently, “you’re your own man, now. I can’t make your decisions for you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Kurt sighs, slightly exasperated. “I just -- I want some help. I can barely wrap my head around all of this as it is. I just… need help sorting things out. I need some direction.” Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt sees his dad’s mouth twitch into a smile. “Can we not with the New Directions jokes, please?”

His dad’s smile doesn’t fade, though. “Okay, okay,” his dad allows, still sounding somehow, unbelievably, infuriatingly calm. “You want some direction, figure out where you’re at, first. How do you feel about all this?”

“Conflicted.”

“You’re thinking too big,” his dad points out. “Break it down. Start smaller. Deal with one thing at a time, kiddo. I get that you’re overwhelmed, but if you keep thinking about it like that, you’re never going to get anywhere. I gotta know what pieces you’ve got before we can work on anything.”

Kurt glances over at him, grateful. “I’m… upset,” he says, grabbing at the first thing he can think of. “I’m upset because Blaine didn’t tell me sooner.”

“I got that,” his dad says. “Keep going. Give me something else.”

Kurt shifts his gaze back up to the sky, edges of his vision blurring a little as he tries not to let his emotions get the best of him -- which is hard, considering that his dad is basically making him evaluate them right now. “I feel like an idiot,” he breathes, quiet and barely there. “I just -- I don’t understand how I could’ve been so _blind_ to it, you know? I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“Is that… a question you want an answer to?” his dad ventures carefully.

Kurt looks back over at him. “Why,” he asks slowly, nose wrinkling a little, “do you have an answer?”

His dad sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s not one you’re gonna like --”

“Try me.”

His dad sits back up, leaning against the back of the truck in an effort to try and get comfortable again. “Okay, let me just ask you something,” his dad tries. “Before you ran into Blaine last fall, who did you spend your time with? Who did you talk to? Who were your friends?”

Kurt narrows his eyes and sits up along with his dad, knees tucked against his chest. “Are you saying that I latched onto Blaine again because I was lonely?”

“I’m saying that it was probably a contributing factor,” his dad argues, still infuriatingly calm, and god, why is Kurt so angry about this? “And the fact that you just got kind of defensive about it says a lot, you know.” Kurt’s lips twist in frustration, but it’s this, the bluntness of his dad’s words and the uncomfortable, twisting feelings his muscles that tell Kurt that this is good, that things are going in the right direction, that they’re working through this. “Are you still in love with him?”

The words are like a truck to his gut, all of the air leaving him at once, his eyes swelling with tears. He’s losing the will to fight. He’s pretty much done resisting thinking about it because it hurts too much -- because _this_ is why it hurts too much. “Yes,” Kurt gasps, trying not cry.

His dad hand rests gently on his back, warm and reassuring, and Kurt bites his lip as he turns to face his father, barely keeping himself together. “It’s okay, Kurt,” his dad says. “It’s okay to still love him.”

“Even if --”

“Even if he cheated on you, even if he kept the truth from you, even if he drives you up the wall, even if you feel betrayed and hurt and like you’re being backed into a corner,” his dad says, hitting practically every button possible. “The fact that you still love him after all of that says a lot about how strong your feelings for him are. And, quite frankly, it says a lot about your relationship with him now, too.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asks, resting his cheek atop his knees.

“I mean the way you talk about him is different than it was before,” his dad explains. “The way you talk _to_ him, _with_ him is different. In some ways, yeah, you’re still the same people you were back then, but you’re different, now. And that’s what -- that’s what being in a relationship is, Kurt, _any_ relationship. And the only reason relationships last is because people learn how to work with the changes. It’s how you and I got to where we are now.”

Kurt’s smile barely cracks its way onto his face. “So what do I do now?”

His dad sighs and adjusts his hat. “You know what your options are,” his dad reminds him. “I think Blaine made those pretty clear to you. But giving you a choice means you’ve gotta make one.”

“I know that,” Kurt sighs, slightly exasperated again. “But I don’t -- I don’t know what to _do_. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, see, there’s your problem,” his dad points out. “This isn’t about what you’re supposed to do, Kurt. There isn’t a right or wrong decision. Blaine’s giving you the opportunity to make a decision based on what you _want_. And -- look, I get that you’re trying to do the right thing here, okay? I get that you’re still in love with him and that you don’t want to hurt her. I get that you’re trying to factor their feelings into your decision. But this is all really new for you, Kurt, and Blaine recognizes that. He’s trying to do the right thing, too -- for both of you.”

Kurt rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms, light spotting back into his eyes after he removes his hands. “I don’t need you to rhapsodize about how selfless Blaine is about everything, okay? I get it. I get that I -- that if I do this, if I decide to be a parent to her, I don’t get to be selfish.”

“Is that what this is about?” his dad inquires gently. “Do you think that because you feel the way you do -- because you’re still in love with him and you might want to do this, be a parent to Joy -- that it somehow makes you selfish? Is that what’s conflicting for you?”

Kurt exhales slowly, caught. “Yeah,” he answers faintly, a small part of him glad to have the feelings put into a coherent thought. “Maybe. I just -- it feels selfish to want something I might not be totally prepared to do. It’s not -- how is that fair to her? How do I -- I don’t --”

“Hey,” his dad says, nudging Kurt’s arm with his own, prompting eye contact. “You know it’s okay to be a little selfish, sometimes, right? You’ve gotta be able to take care of yourself in order to take care of other people -- you taught me that.” And that gets Kurt to smile, but the tears sting at his eyes worse than ever. “And from what it sounds like, Blaine was pretty selfish when he decided to be a parent to Joy. It’s _okay_ , Kurt. It’s okay to feel the way you do. It’s okay to want things. But can I give you a piece of advice?”

“Please,” Kurt laughs, wiping at his eyes. “It’s why I came.”

“Take some time,” his dad encourages. “Make sure you know what it is that you really want. Because it doesn’t matter what you choose, Kurt -- what matters is that you stick to your decision. Blaine’s right -- there isn’t really room for you to change your mind on something like this.”

Kurt bites his lip. “I know I’ve changed,” he says quietly. “I just… think there’s a part of me that hasn’t changed at all. I’m not sure it ever will.” And it’s the closest he can get to how he feels and what he wants, right now, because there’s still so much he hasn’t said, still so much he’s holding back.

“No one is asking you to change who you are, Kurt,” his dad promises, and god, Kurt loves him for that, loves him for always promising that. _Your job is to be yourself_ , his dad had said, six years ago. _My job is to love you no matter what._ It’s only now, with his heart beating like he’s seventeen again, that Kurt thinks he finally understands what his dad had really meant.

He may have changed, but his heart has not.

* * * * *

His dad has always given him room to breathe, but it’s Carole who gives him time.

It’s obvious that his dad has relayed Kurt’s current saga to Carole, if the elaborate brunch on Sunday morning and cheesecake accompanying dinner are anything to go by. Her gestures and touches become more frequent, but she never actually addresses the topic directly. Kurt thinks it’s just indicative of her parenting style; his dad has always given him a safe space to be himself, but Carole has always been the one to give him (and Finn) the opportunities to make their own mistakes and learn their own lessons. And while this isn’t exactly a mistake (an accident, maybe), Kurt still appreciates that she’s giving him time after his talk with his dad to think for himself.

By the time Thursday rolls around, Kurt’s starting to feel -- well, not normal, but at least functional. He’s sleeping more often and better, which means he’s able to actually focus on work, and Lima is quiet enough that Kurt’s breaks actually feel kind of relaxing as opposed to rushed and noisy and distracting. He also has the liberty of taking slightly longer breaks, and with a crumb-spotted ceramic plate and a condensation-covered glass on the coffee table, Kurt takes a few minutes to stretch.

With desire and longing in his veins, Kurt finally starts to feel comfortable in his own skin again.

Carole joins him before he has a chance to sit back down. “Hey,” he groans, stretching his arms over his head before rolling his shoulders back and relaxing. “I thought you were at work.”

She smiles bemusedly at him and leans against the door frame. “I thought _you_ were working,” she counters.

“Lunch break,” he retorts, gesturing to the dishes on the table. “And that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“I took a half-day,” she says with a shrug.

Kurt sighs and averts his eyes. “Did my dad put you up to it?”

“No, my idea,” she says, and something in her tone makes Kurt believe her. “Last night, you were talking about going home on Sunday. I wanted to spend some time with you before you left. Think Isabelle will mind if you play hooky for the rest of the day?”

Kurt’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Probably not since I’m working from home,” he guesses. “If someone really needs me, they’ll call or text or e-mail, and I’ll have my phone with me.” He leans forward and closes his laptop with a quiet _click_ before straightening and turning to face Carole. “What’d you have in mind?”

She studies him for a moment before answering. “Let’s go for a drive.”

Phone tucked in his pocket and scarf fastened around his neck with his favorite airplane brooch, Kurt follows his stepmother’s footsteps.

Carole opts for music instead of conversation in the car, and as Jeff Buckley’s voice fills the car, Kurt’s suspicions are immediately raised again and pretty much confirmed. If Carole’s not talking now, she’s probably saving her words for later, which means she probably has a destination in mind. So as they curve around yellow lines through old and familiar streets, a map begins to unfold in Kurt’s memory, names and landmarks springing to mind and reminding Kurt that this isn’t just a place he knows. This used to be home, and even though he’s an adult with his own life in New York now, Kurt has still spent most of his life here. He has so many memories here -- memories of his childhood, with his family, asserting his independence as a teenager. He has memories with Blaine, too, knows that Blaine has his own memories of growing up here. And it occurs to Kurt, then, that while Blaine has primarily been raising Joy in New York, Joy has spent time here, too. And even though she’s too young to remember much of anything, Kurt knows that she still has her own attachments and associations here, and as Carole turns off onto a side street, Kurt finds himself wondering where Joy has left her mark in Lima.

When Kurt gets out of the car, he finds himself on familiar ground.

He sucks in a breath at the sight of the graveyard in front of him, but Carole appears at his side and reaches for his hand. And not for the first time in the last week, Kurt feels eight years old again, a parent leading him by the hand. He treads carefully, hyper-aware of the ground beneath his boots, and as they navigate rows upon rows of arched gray, Kurt remembers that Carole has buried more people here than he has. It’s strange, this mellow, non-militant march to the markers of death’s victory. It’s not the first time he’s made it, not by a long shot; he’s here every year, path predictable.

But this is the first time it feels different. He’s always used to leaving with the energy sapped from him, heart and blood and bone and brain weary and worn. This time, Kurt brings light to something dark, yellow cotton covering his skin, a beaming beacon. And with Joy in mind, Kurt feels like he’s bringing life to the dead beneath his feet.

They visit Finn, first.

Carole has flowers -- of course she has flowers, why wouldn’t she -- that had escaped Kurt’s notice before. She releases his hand briefly to kneel in front of the headstone and set one of the arrangements on the ground. Kurt remembers the first time they’d brought flowers here, together, their little trio of a family. It’d been particularly hard on Carole, that year, and Kurt had tried to ease the pain with a story passed down to him from his mother.

Kurt had been four when he’d asked his mother why people gave each other flowers for various occasions -- birthdays, holidays, funerals. Flowers at a funeral or on the anniversary of a death were meant to be a form of communication, she’d told him; it’s not just _I remember you_ or _I miss you_. The flowers listen while they’re still alive, hold onto the messages that the living pass on, and as they wilt and fade and decompose into the ground, those messages seep into the soil, heard and received by the dead. It was then that Kurt had learned about gift giving as a form of expression -- of love, of compassion, of appreciation.

As Carole pushes herself to her feet, Kurt remembers the flowers Blaine and Joy had sent him last week. Kurt had never told Blaine that story, which means Joy hasn’t heard it, either, but the collection of trinkets Joy has given him in the last six months is proof enough that she already understands the idea behind it. Kurt feels very suddenly like Ariel again, and Joy reminds him so _much_ of his mother.

Kurt doesn’t want to lose Joy.

His voice _burns_ in his throat, trying to sear and scorch its way out, but Carole takes his hand again, and with her eyes trained on the headstone in front of them, she uses her voice first. “Do you want to know why parents are so protective of their children?”

Kurt swallows in an attempt to soothe his throat. “Because we can’t protect ourselves?”

A slight shake of the head, but her hand tightens around his, and Kurt knows that coming here hasn’t gotten any easier for her over the years, either. “That’s only true for so long,” she points out, sounding almost as infuriatingly calm as his dad had last weekend. It’s such a stark contrast to how tense her hand feels in his, and it hits him, suddenly, that she will splinter and crack and break and burn through touch, first, before she lets her voice be taken from her, before she’ll cry at all. “Eventually, all children grow up. They make mistakes and they, hopefully, learn from them. They learn how to defend and protect themselves. At some point, they stop needing their parents to shelter them.”

“But the urge never really goes away,” Kurt figures.

Another shake of the head, this time accompanied by a slightly wistful smile. “Not really,” she affirms. “There’s something to be said for being biologically related, but it’s trued for adoptions and made families, too -- families like ours. Your kid isn’t just a part of the family -- they’re a part of _you_ , you know? Like -- like a vulnerable extension of yourself,” she explains, gesturing to the space between her and the headstone with her semi-free hand. “And you can only exhibit some control over that piece of you for so long because it -- it’s a _person_. Your child can think and act and feel for themselves.”

“So it’s about control?” Kurt guesses.

A third shake of the head, more vehement this time, and Carole squeezes his hand so tight that it starts to hurt. “As a parent, you have a hand in shaping the kind of person your kid grows into, but one of the greatest feelings is being able to watch them make their own decisions, their own paths. You get to watch them make choices and see how they impact the rest of the world, the people around them. There’s all of this potential to watch this piece of you be _good_ , to do well. And yeah, it’s nice to have a hand in how your kid turns out, but it’s even better to watch them _want_ to manifest into something great.”

Her hand starts to tremble in his, tremors evident all the way up her arm, and Kurt knows it won’t be long before her voice starts to waver and buckle. He knows how hard it must be for her, to walk him through her experiences as a parent when she doesn’t have a child anymore. He’s just not quite prepared for how visceral her reaction is, how raw and broken open she sounds. “So it’s just -- it’s _hard_ when you lose a child,” she says thickly, and god, if that isn’t the biggest understatement Kurt’s ever heard. “It’s like a really twisted reversal of the whole process, like getting a limb or a branch cut off. You lose a piece of yourself, and suddenly, you’re that much more vulnerable. Because parents don’t just protect their children, Kurt -- children protect their parents, a little, just by existing. And then they’re just… _gone_ ,” she sighs, the last word coming out almost like a gasp for air. “And everything they were, everything they represented, is gone.”

Kurt squeezes her hand, and Carole pulls him a little closer. “I know,” he reminds her, voice soft and faint and barely there. “It’s -- it feels the same, the other way around. I felt off-balance after my mom died, like I couldn’t find my footing.”

“It’s a little different, losing a child,” she argues with all of the patience in the world. She’s still not looking at him, though, and Kurt think she probably won’t until she’s said her piece and can rest her voice for a while. “You create opportunity by simply having a child. When your child passes away, the opportunities disappear. And you can have a million other extensions or branches or limbs, Kurt, but you never get that one back. You’ve lost a piece of yourself forever.”

And _oh_ , Kurt understands that, he really, really does. Joy is the embodiment of opportunity for him, and back in February, Kurt had told Blaine about being a missing piece, had confessed to needing Blaine, to being brave enough to need him.

The conversation is getting dangerously close to pulling another confession out of Kurt, but he can’t do it now -- not here, not without his mom. Not without both of his moms. The tremors vibrate down her arm, between their hands, up Kurt’s arm, and Kurt doesn’t bother trying to hide the quaver in his voice when he asks, “Can we -- is it okay if we see my mom, now?”

Kurt chances a glance over at her and is surprised to find her looking back, a little more composed. “Of course,” she says warmly. “Why do you think I brought a second set of flowers?”

This time, it’s Kurt who branches out and leads the way, and Carole only lets go of his hand when they reach his mother’s grave. The flowers get passed through him from one mother to the other, and with his confession in petals on the ground, Kurt finds his voice again. “When I reconnected with Blaine last fall, I realized how much I missed him -- how much I missed who I am when I’m with him,” Kurt admits quietly. “But when I met Joy -- when I started really _bonding_ with Joy -- she helped me find the parts of myself I thought I’d never get back.”

Carole kneels down next to him but doesn’t reach out to touch him. “Sounds like you know what I’ve been talking about.”

And that’s the thing -- he _does_. Kurt knows what Carole’s been talking about, but more than that, he understands it. And it’s that -- the mere fact that he understands her perspective -- that makes him realize that he’s already settling into the mentality of a parent. And the truth burns its way up his throat and he only barely manages to hold back his tears and he can hardly _breathe_ as the words tumble out of him. “I think -- I think I love her,” he gasps, voice faltering. “I think I love her, and I think I want to do this, and I _know_ that sounds crazy --”

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” Carole assures him, and _oh_ , how that reminds him of Blaine and fuck, fuck, fuck, Kurt can’t help crying, now. “Or maybe it does,” Carole allows, laughing a little. “Love is kind of a crazy thing, Kurt, no matter who’s involved --”

“I’m scared.”

And _there_ it is.

But it’s okay, because Carole’s hand rests gently against his back and Kurt is allowed to be someone’s child for a little while longer. “Sweetie, that’s okay,” she assures him.

He barks out a nervous, self-deprecating laugh and leans into her touch. “Is this what parenthood feels like?” he asks dryly. “Is it normal to be completely terrified all of the time?”

He feels her smile against his forehead. “Maybe not _all_ of the time, but yeah, it’s probably fairly normal. But hey,” she says, nudging him gently to get him to lift his head from her shoulder to look at her, “we’ve never really bought into what’s considered normal, have we?”

Kurt feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Are we revisiting my unicorn campaign senior year?”

“Briefly,” Carole laughs, tugging him a little closer and turning her eyes onto the headstone of Kurt’s mother. “That campaign was very reflective of who you are, Kurt -- who you’ve always been. You embrace and celebrate every part of who you are.”

Kurt’s eyes follow Carole’s gaze back to the letters etched into stone, and even though every fiber of his being yearns for his mother, being tucked against Carole’s side eases the pain a little. “It’s easy to do that when you have parents who encourage you to do it.”

Carole’s quiet for a minute, and she takes him a little by surprise when she forces them both to sit upright and face each other. She adjusts his scarf, fussing over him like a mother would, and it’s startling enough to temporarily stem Kurt’s tears. “Really, honey, all of that considered, it’s no wonder you want to be a parent to your daughter.”

He grabs hold of her hand when she reaches his brooch, stilling her movement. “I lost Blaine once,” he says. “I don’t want to lose him again. I’m so _tired_ of losing people.”

“I know,” she says softly, “but from what you and your dad have told me, I don’t think that’s going to happen, Kurt. And Blaine and Joy -- they come as a package deal. I don’t think you’re going to lose anyone, not if this is your decision. Not if you’re sure.”

Kurt takes a second to just… breathe, to settle into his skin and be sure of himself and his decision. And it occurs to him, then, kneeling in front of his mother’s grave and holding Carole’s hand, that he is not alone. He was born to the woman buried beneath his feet, but it’s the woman in front of him -- the woman who is holding his hand and giving him the validation he needs -- who _chose_ to be a parent to him. And even if Kurt hasn’t been around for Joy before now, she was still born to him. Joy is a piece of him -- and she always will be -- but Kurt is _choosing_ to be her parent. Because Carole’s right -- it’s okay to love Joy not just for who she is or the fact that she’s his daughter, but also for the person she’s helped Blaine become. And if Joy is a piece of Kurt, then maybe he’s starting to love himself again, too.

It’s okay to be happy.

Kurt’s not sure if he’s _meant_ to grow into being a parent, but he’s choosing it anyway.

“I’m sure.”

* * * * *


	13. Chapter 13

Eyes closed and head nestled against the arm of the couch, the only thing that’s keeping Blaine awake is sound. From behind him, he can hear his parents distantly working in the kitchen, putting away the small surplus of food left over from dinner and washing the dishes (by hand, of course, because even with the convenience of modern technology, his mother had ingrained in him by a very young age that washing by hand was the way to get dirty dishes really clean). The sound of water running from the bathroom had stopped several minutes ago, Cooper’s voice and Joy’s infectious giggles taking its place. Still, it’s all fairly quiet, white noise, and in less than two minutes, Blaine’s already close enough to sleep that he’s considering just sleeping on the couch so he doesn’t have to move.

It doesn’t last, though. There’s a discordant honking sound from down the hall, and Blaine winces a little. He knows what that sound is, but he wasn’t expecting to hear it until tomorrow, and if he’s hearing it now, there can really be only one person responsible -- Cooper. Blaine’s _exhausted_ and it’s not quite seven-thirty and Joy isn’t in bed yet and his family is still here and really, this is just the beginning of what promises to be a very long weekend. Blaine waits for a moment, ears straining, but when he doesn’t hear it again, he lets out a sigh of relief and relaxes.

Another honk, this time much louder and sounding like a horn, and Blaine barely has a split-second to register the sound and its proximity before something hits him lightly on the nose. Startled, he blinks his eyes open and lifts his head a little. The end of a noisemaker comes into view as his vision clears, and as his eyes follow the long line of it back, he’s met with Joy’s bright eyes. Her mouth relaxes around the other end of the noisemaker once she realizes she’s gotten his attention and she breaks out into a huge grin, unable to hold back her giggles.

Blaine arches an eyebrow at her but can’t stop the corner of his mouth from turning up. “This,” he says, tapping the end of the noisemaker closest to him, “is for your party _tomorrow_. Where did you get it?”

Joy ducks her head and grins even wider. “Uncle Coop gave it to me.”

“Your uncle does like to start a party early, doesn’t he?” Blaine sighs, sitting up. “Okay, I’ll tell you what,” he offers. “How about you give this to me now, and I promise that as soon as you wake up in the morning, you can play with it all you want tomorrow, okay?” Joy shakes her head and blows air into the noisemaker again before running by him to circle the couch. Blaine blinks at her as she blurs by him, caught off guard by what he sees. “You’re only half-dressed,” he points out, trying not to sound annoyed. “Where’s your top?”

“Hey,” Cooper laughs, joining them and catching Joy as she tries to dart by him. “I wasn’t finished with you!” Joy squeals in protest before blowing the noisemaker in Cooper’s face. Cooper blows a raspberry against her belly in retaliation, causing her to laugh so hard that she drops the noisemaker. Blaine grabs hold of it while she’s distracted and tucks it behind a pillow, hoping she’ll forget about it until tomorrow. Cooper sets Joy down in Blaine’s lap a little haphazardly while he unfolds the missing top, causing Blaine to hold her a little tighter and straighten her so she doesn’t fall. “Arms up,” Cooper instructs, kneeling in front of them.

Joy shakes her head and leans against Blaine, arms covering her torso. “No,” she protests. “No tickles.”

“I promise I won’t tickle,” Cooper laughs, holding the shirt out so he can slip it onto her easily. “But you have to put your pajamas on so I can read you a bedtime story.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Joy argues.

Blaine sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but Cooper speaks up before Blaine has a chance to argue with her. “You will be,” Cooper assures her. “And you have to go to sleep, because if you don’t sleep tonight, then you’ll sleep all through your party tomorrow! You’ll miss all of the fun! We’ll eat all of the cake without you!”

“No!” Joy gasps in protest. Blaine rolls his eyes at Cooper deliberately while Joy’s faced away from him. Joy usually only tends to get this melodramatic when she’s around Cooper, but Blaine knows there’s always the possibility that it’ll stick. She’s fairly compliant and relaxed about most things, but Blaine doesn’t want her to start making huge deals out of everything just because Cooper has a love for theatrics. Which -- Blaine guesses that’s kind of unfair considering that she’s only turning three. She’s just a kid; she’s allowed to kind of lose it a little sometimes.

“Arms up, then,” Cooper instructs again, and this time Joy complies, wriggling into the warm, patterned thermal. “Okay, say goodnight to Daddy.”

Joy twists awkwardly, knees digging a little painfully into Blaine’s thighs as she turns around to face him. Blaine lets out a quiet _oomph_ before he can get a good grip on her torso to help right her. She anchors a hand on either side of his face just as he catches his breath, and she leans forward to press a loud, wet, smacking kiss to his lips. “Night, Daddy.”

Blaine relaxes into a smile and pulls her close, anchoring a hand on her back and tucking his chin over her shoulder. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek and another to her forehead once they pull apart before he lets her clamber off of his lap.

“Let’s go say goodnight to Grandma and Grandpa,” Cooper suggests, pushing himself to his feet and holding out a hand. “And then you can pick out what book we’ll read tonight.”

Joy slips her hand into Cooper’s and lets him start to lead her into the kitchen. “The one with the -- the di -- din --”

“Dinosaurs,” Cooper supplies helpfully. Blaine mouths _thank you_ in his direction before leaning against the back of the couch and closing his eyes.

The voices of his family blend and flow almost melodically after that, low and quiet and following an easy script. Joy’s voice starts to fade as Cooper escorts her down the hall to her bedroom, their mother’s voice in tow, and it’s only a couple of moments before Blaine feels someone’s hand on his shoulder. He blinks his eyes open tiredly and looks at his father upside-down. “Your mother made tea,” his father explains, moving around to the front of the couch and forcing Blaine to sit up a little. “I added some honey to yours. You look like you could use it.”

“Thank you,” Blaine breathes, reaching out greedily for the steaming mug. “I think I’d prefer coffee, honestly, but if I drink coffee this late, I probably won’t sleep until like, two.”

“You doing okay?” his father asks, settling down on the couch next to him. “I know you’ve been keeping us up to date on everything, but -- you just seem like you’re a little more worse for the wear than normal.”

Blaine takes a sip of his tea and tucks a leg up under himself. “I am,” he admits with a sigh. “It’s -- not a lot is all that different. It just _feels_ different, I guess?”

“How so?”

“It’s partially Joy,” Blaine explains, trying to let the tea relax him a little. “She’s -- you know how everyone says that two is the hardest age?”

“Terrible twos,” his father acknowledges with a slight grin. “You should’ve seen Cooper, although I don’t think his… rambunctiousness was contained in that one particular year.”

“Joy’s different,” Blaine says, trying to keep his brain together enough to make his point. “She’s active, she plays, but she’s a lot -- calmer? more composed? -- than other kids. She’s smart and articulate and she doesn’t need to be running around to be happy.”

“And that’s changing?” his father guesses.

Blaine nods and sets his mug down on the coffee table. “I think she’s just full of more energy, now that she’s getting older,” Blaine sighs. “Like, tonight, she said she wasn’t tired even though this is her normal bedtime. She wants to stay awake longer. Her naps are getting shorter. She’s just kind of this… ball of energy right now and it’s kind of exhausting.”

“I’m sure Cooper’s not helping,” his father says dryly. “But I’ve got news for you -- it’s only going to change again within the next year. And the year after that. And the year after that. Eventually you’re going to get to the point where she gets through her days without naptime.”

“Oh god,” Blaine groans, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Is that really all that’s making you this tired?” his dad pries. “Joy’s got a little extra energy?”

“I’ve got finals coming up, too, next week,” Blaine reminds him, reaching for his mug again and settling against the back of the couch. “My brain’s kind of in overdrive. I’m not really sleeping all that well or that much right now.”

“You’ve juggled pretty well before,” his father comments.

Blaine runs his thumb along the rim of his mug. “Things were different, before,” he says quietly.

His father’s quiet for a minute before he vocalizes Blaine’s meaning. “Have you heard from him?”

Blaine shakes his head and takes a sip of his tea. “Not since you asked earlier this week.”

“And you haven’t called?” his father asks. Another shake of the head, and Blaine can tell he’s testing his father’s patience. “Has Joy asked about him?”

_That_ question is new, and Blaine shifts uncomfortably on the couch, averting his gaze. “Yeah,” he admits, however begrudgingly. “Only two or three times, but --”

“Still,” his father finishes for him. “She probably misses him. She hasn’t seen him in how long, again?”

“It’s been over a month,” Blaine says, Joy’s last encounter with Kurt flashing briefly in his mind. “I saw him, a little over three weeks ago, but she didn’t. You know that -- we’ve been over this.”

“I know,” his father says gently, seemingly able to tell how tense Blaine is. “And I know that you’re trying to give him time and space, Blaine, but --”

“He’s entitled to that,” Blaine sighs, feeling like a broken record. “I don’t want Kurt to feel pressured. I don’t want to force him into a decision or make him feel guilty or anything like that.”

“I know,” his father says again, “but you have to realize that you can’t let this drag on forever, Blaine.”

Back on the coffee table the mug of tea goes, and Blaine’s head feels heavy in his hands. “I know, I know,” he groans, grinding the heels of his palms against his eyes in an attempt to clear his head and make himself more awake. His vision sparks with stars when he removes his hands, and he tucks one of the throw pillows behind his aching lower back before leaning back again, trying to regain his composure. The previously hidden noisemaker catches his eye, and he reaches for it with gentle fingers, tracing the pattern. “Kurt was supposed to be here,” Blaine confesses quietly. “He offered to make the cake. He would’ve taken off of work, if Joy’s birthday hadn’t been on a weekend this year.”

“So call him,” his father encourages.

Blaine shakes his head. “Her birthday’s tomorrow,” he says, shoulders sagging. “It’s not enough time, and everyone else is here, and I just -- I kind of just want to get through the weekend,” he admits.

“Wait until we all go home on Monday?” his father guesses. Blaine nods. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Wait until it’s just the two of you -- well, the three of you. I’m sure us being here would just make it more stressful. We don’t want to make him feel pressured either, Blaine.”

Blaine glances over at him, surprised. “You don’t?”

“No,” his father laughs, reaching for one of the other throw pillows and hitting Blaine with it lightly. “Look, your mother and I might be a little… anxious about how all of this turns out, but we want the best for you. And even though we know what the worst case scenario is, Blaine, we also know that the best case scenario is what we know you want. We’re here to help, if we can.”

Blaine’s mouth twitches into a smile. “I’m hoping it’ll be okay,” he says, trying to sound optimistic. “He seemed -- before we talked about it, he seemed like he was doing really well with her. I just --” Here, his smile fades, and Blaine closes his eyes as he remembers sitting here just over three weeks ago, just as tired and distraught. “He was so _upset_ with me,” Blaine breathes. “I’m worried he won’t be able to move on from it.”

“ _You_ miss him too, don’t you?”

Blaine nods, inhaling sharply as tears sting at his eyes. “I spent three years missing him, Dad. Of course I miss him now.”

“Maybe it’s not so different for him,” his father suggests kindly. “From the little you’ve told us since September, it seems like he missed you, too, Blaine.”

Blaine opens his eyes and rubs at his temple. “I’m not worried about me,” he sighs, trying not to snap. “I’m worried about Joy.”

“Okay,” his father says. “So you worry about your child. I’ll worry about mine.”

Blaine casts him an appreciative smile and closes the gap between them on the couch by scooting closer. His father wraps an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and pulls him a little closer, and the gesture is so _comforting_ that Blaine just kind of melts against him, toying with the noisemaker in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

His father’s hand rubs soothingly at Blaine’s shoulder for a moment or two as the voices of his mother and Cooper drift down the hallway in harmony. After a few bars, Blaine recognizes [Far Longer Than Forever](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otn4orGeH_c) and barely refrains from humming along. “What was the last thing Kurt said to you, before he left?” his father asks.

“I don’t even know if I really remember,” Blaine sighs, trying not to let his nerves and anxiety and stress destroy the noisemaker in his hands. “It was just -- we were both really emotional and I know it was a lot for him and I think he was just… trying to get it all out of his system.” Blaine rolls his shoulders back and shrugs a little out of his father’s embrace, gaining space while still staying close. “Why?”

His father considers him a moment. “You were just sort of… panicked when you first called to tell me what had happened,” his father reminds him. “I’m just trying to gauge what kind of note you both left things on.”

Blaine drops his gaze to his hands, thumb tracing the pattern on the noisemaker again. “Kurt kissed me,” Blaine confesses softly. “That was the last thing he did before he left. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me, and then he was just… gone.”

“What did it feel like?”

Blaine blinks up, eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The kiss,” his father clarifies. “What did it feel like? Did it feel like goodbye?”

It’s a little odd and a lot personal, but Blaine gives his father the benefit of the doubt and tries to remember what it had felt like. He doesn’t always pay attention to details, too lost in sensation to care, but there are a few things about Kurt’s parting kiss that lingered -- warmth and proximity and tongue-tied and Kurt’s hands on his waist. Blaine remembers reaching for him, needing an anchor, remembers Kurt pushing back, remembers keeping Kurt close. It hadn’t felt like goodbye. If anything, it had felt like an overwhelming desire to stay, to hold on, to just not let go.

To find their way back to each other.

To hope.

To dream.

“No,” Blaine answers slowly, muscles in his face relaxing, “it didn’t.”

His father offers an encouraging smile. “I wouldn’t give up hope just yet.”

Blaine thinks about the things Kurt left behind -- the coat in the closet by the front door (the warmth of Kurt’s arms around him at night); the spare toothbrush in the holder next to Blaine’s (the taste of a minty-fresh kiss before they parted ways in the morning); the small cluster of moisturizing products arranged next to Blaine’s (a choreographed bump of hips at the bathroom counter); the clothes tucked away in dresser drawers and on display on the hangers in the closet (on the floor after Blaine had removed them with eager hands); the stack of sketchpads on the nightstand (the pages starting to fill with designs he thinks Joy may have inspired). They aren’t just _things_ that Kurt has left behind -- they’re memories of a life he was starting to build, here. Kurt may have left but he’s still _here_ \-- he’s always been here.

Because Blaine remembers Kurt confessing that Joy had helped him rediscover his voice, and with Joy’s presence, with her mere existence, Kurt has always been and always will be here. But Blaine also remembers their confrontation -- their _discussion_ about Joy a few weeks ago. He remembers imploring Kurt to exercise control and restraint so that he didn’t wake Joy -- _please try to be quiet, keep your voice down, lower your voice_. Kurt hadn’t left him with words; he’d left with a kiss, and while Joy had slept, Kurt had left his voice with her. Kurt left so much behind, which means he’s going to have to return if he wants to retrieve any of it, if he wants these pieces of his life, of himself back.

Blaine thinks about the things Kurt left behind and realizes that his father is right -- there’s still hope. Because Kurt has more than a life here -- he has a family.

And with the reminder that Blaine’s family is always in his corner, Blaine feels safe enough to sleep.

* * * * *

His dreams are interrupted by reality.

His phone startles him awake, blaring and disruptive to his sleep and the silence of the apartment. He slaps his hand around the nightstand looking for it with a dazed sense of urgency, his thumb hitting the answer button while his eyes are still closed and heavy with sleep. “Hello?” he mumbles, cheek squished against the pillow.

“Hey,” a voice answers, quiet and barely there. A pause, and then, “It’s… Kurt.”

Blaine blinks his eyes open quickly at the realization, eyes stinging from all of the rheum encrusted on his lids and the inner corners. He rubs furiously at his eyes to clean them and try and force himself into being a little more conscious. “Kurt,” he says thickly, glancing up at the clock on the nightstand. Four a.m., jesus.

“I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and risk waking her,” Kurt says, clearly trying to keep his voice down. And _oh_ , how similar this is to the last time Kurt was here, quiet and tentative and early in the morning. It’s almost as if no time has passed at all, even though Blaine knows it’s been weeks. They can pick up where they’ve left off.

And then Kurt’s words register with Blaine -- _really_ register -- and Blaine props himself up on one elbow at the implication. “The doorbell,” he says dumbly. “I -- you’re _here_.”

“Yeah,” Kurt affirms, sounding both warm and a little hesitant. “I’m here.”

“I, um -- just… give me a minute,” Blaine says, surprised at how breathless he sounds. “I’ll be right there.” With clumsy hands and feet, Blaine drags himself out of bed and uses his phone to light the hallway until he turns a lamp on in the living room. Phone on a side table, twist the lock, hand on the doorknob, and… Blaine stops.

Once he opens the door, everything is going to change.

He’s not afraid of change -- he can’t be, not as a parent. But he doesn’t know _how_ things are going to change once he opens the door, because even though Kurt is here, Blaine doesn’t know what Kurt’s decided. And _that_ is what gives Blaine pause, what makes him afraid to open the door. Blaine’s had his heart broken before and survived it, but Joy hasn’t, and Blaine’s worried that if Kurt’s here to say goodbye, it’s too late to spare Joy that much hurt. It’s frustrating, knowing that Blaine could have so much more control over the situation if he’d just timed it better. But life doesn’t work that way and Blaine _knows_ that; he knows that he can only have so much control over certain things, can only protect his daughter to a certain extent. She’s only going to need him for so long, in most respects, and the opportunities will get further and fewer between the older she gets. She’s _three_ today and even though she’s still fairly attached to him and needs him, there are things she doesn’t need him for, anymore.

But here, with Kurt on the other side of this door, Blaine remembers that Joy was starting to get attached to Kurt, too, and she doesn’t even know that Kurt’s her father. The thing that scares Blaine the most is that Joy might feel like she needs Kurt, too, and if Kurt decides not to be her parent, Blaine’s not sure that he’s enough for Joy anymore.

Ignoring the painful twist in his chest, Blaine takes a deep breath and opens the door.

The first thing that Blaine notices is the number of bags Kurt’s got with him. Messenger bag slung over one shoulder, duffle bag on the other, a couple of reusable grocery bags hanging off of his arms. In his hands, Kurt clutches a vase housing an arrangement of red and yellow roses. There’s so _much_ Blaine could infer from the things Kurt has brought with him, but they’re only possible indicators, not words, not confirmation, and Blaine doesn’t want to make assumptions. So Blaine focuses his attention on Kurt’s face and tries to be impassive.

There’s a slight spark in Kurt’s eyes when Blaine finally looks at him, but it’s paired with a bit lip, a clear sign that Kurt’s nervous and uneasy. There’s an awkward, slightly tense moment of silence between them before Kurt takes a deep breath and makes a gesture with all of his baggage. “Do you still need a cake?”

Blaine has an answer for that (his mother had offered to make one, yesterday, when Blaine had confessed to forgetting about ordering one), but it’s irrelevant because Kurt is _here_. Kurt is here with what are clearly baking supplies, Kurt is here to bake a cake for Joy’s birthday, Kurt is here for _Joy_ \-- calm down, calm down, calm down, Blaine can’t jump to conclusions, not yet. A breath to steady himself, and he wordlessly steps aside to let Kurt in and deposit all of his things in the kitchen. Door closed, lock turned, Blaine’s hands are shaking but he tries not to let it show. He joins Kurt in the kitchen and ignores the newly formed pile on the table, ignores the impulse to gravitate toward it so he can help unpack certain things and put them in the refrigerator. It’d be busy work, a distraction, something to do to allow them both to stall and put off really talking. And Blaine has learned his lesson -- he can’t put off conversations like this again, not after everything that’s happened, not if there’s any hope of salvaging something good out of this mess.

Last bag down, Kurt turns to face him and draws in another breath. “Look,” Kurt says, quiet and even and practiced, “before you say anything --” Blaine raises his eyebrows expectantly, trying to be patient and calm and give Kurt time and space to say his piece.

And then Kurt’s hands are on his waist, and Kurt captures Blaine’s lips in a kiss.

Blaine’s eyes slip shut on instinct, but it takes a second to really hit him -- Kurt is kissing him. Kurt is kissing him instead of speaking. Kurt is _kissing_ him, and the time for resisting the urge to make inferences is over because this -- this is absolutely clear. Kurt is kissing him, which means he still wants Blaine, still wants to _be_ with Blaine, and Blaine’s brain can’t get beyond that before he’s anchoring his hands on Kurt’s arms and kissing back.

And for the first time in several weeks, Blaine lets himself really acknowledge his own feelings for Kurt -- what he’s wanted, what he’s told himself he may have to live without. Blaine’s been trying so _hard_ to put Joy first, and when Kurt had been here before, it’d been easier to juggle everything. Kurt had urged him to take care of himself, to be a little selfish and do things that make him happy and go after what he wanted. Blaine hasn’t felt like he’s had that luxury -- not since Kurt left -- but now that Kurt’s _here_ , Blaine doesn’t feel like he hasn’t had to stifle his desires anymore.

Blaine wants _Kurt_. He wants the Kurt who has always embraced who he is and the skin he lives in, wants the Kurt who steals focus but isn’t afraid to share the spotlight. Blaine wants the Kurt who makes ridiculous jokes to ease tension, wants the Kurt who is unapologetic and unabashed in his love of things. Blaine wants the Kurt who always puts family first, wants the Kurt who saw beyond what Blaine let the rest of the world see.

Blaine is -- always has been, always will be -- still in love with him, and the promises behind Kurt’s kiss take Blaine’s breath away.

He can barely _breathe_ when they break apart, unable to control the shaking in his hands, and it’s not until Kurt’s fingers touch his face that Blaine realizes he’s started to cry. “You really didn’t think I was going to come back, did you?” Kurt asks softly.

“It’s not that,” Blaine says wetly, not bothering to try and wipe the tears from his eyes. “It’s just -- I _missed you_ ,” he confesses. “And I’ve been trying not to think about it. I’ve been trying to focus on Joy, but god, I missed the hell out of you.”

Kurt drops his hand from Blaine’s face and loosens his grip on Blaine’s waist but doesn’t quite let go. He looks… uncomfortable and maybe a little hurt, and Blaine can tell that Kurt’s holding back when he asks, “Did you think I was going to break up with you?”

“I didn’t know what to think,” Blaine admits, hand suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable on Kurt’s arm. “You were so upset, that morning, I just -- I was trying not to think about it too much while you were gone.”

Kurt takes a heavy, measured breath and drops his gaze, moving his hand from Blaine’s waist to grab hold of Blaine’s hand. “You know, the hardest part of all of this for me -- it wasn’t deciding what I wanted. I _knew_ what I wanted. I just --” Again, Kurt looks uncomfortable as he rolls his neck and shoulders, but he keeps going. “I needed the time -- the _opportunity_ to have someone tell me that it was okay to want the things I do. I needed to be reassured that I was making the right choice, that I wasn’t being… selfish or irresponsible by choosing this -- by choosing _her_.” Kurt lets out a slightly self-deprecating chuckle, still not making eye contact despite where the conversation’s headed. “That must sound silly --”

“It’s not silly,” Blaine reassures him, and Kurt lifts his eyes up instantly, smile grateful and knowing. “Kurt, if anything, it shows that you were thinking about Joy’s well-being. And believe me, if anyone could understand what it’s like to feel selfish by choosing to be a parent, it’s me.”

Kurt reaches out for him, holding both of Blaine’s hands now, and Blaine can feel Kurt’s hands trembling. It’s a reversal from how things were a few minutes ago, an echo of the last time Kurt was here, the turntable transference of emotional reactions taking hold of them. “I want to do this,” Kurt says, voice even despite his shaking hands. “I want to be a parent to her. But I’m…. terrified,” he admits breathlessly. “I know how important this is -- how important _she_ is. But _you_ , Blaine? Deciding to be with you was the easy part -- it was never even in question.” Tremors subsiding, Kurt squeezes Blaine’s hands a little tighter. “I’ve always wanted to be with you.”

Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s neck and leans in close, gently knocking their foreheads together. “You have to be sure,” Blaine breathes, trying to swallow his doubt, “because if we’re going to do this -- if we’re going to be together and be parents to her -- then our relationship has to be _solid_ , Kurt. Not perfect -- solid. I know that we’ll have rough patches, if our history is anything to go by, but I don’t --” Another hard swallow, because this time he _is_ thinking about Joy, mostly. Blaine knows that Kurt is afraid of screwing up -- Kurt doesn’t need to say it explicitly for Blaine to know that. Blaine also knows that it’s unavoidable, but this isn’t all that different. He doesn’t want to screw up, either, but not because he’s afraid of making mistakes. He just… doesn’t want Joy to get hurt. “We can’t just give up anytime things get difficult, Kurt. I don’t want her to get used to the idea of her parents being together and then we just end up separating. I don’t want to put her through that.”

Kurt pulls back a little, forcing eye contact, and there’s such a _warmth_ in his eyes. “I don’t want to put _us_ through that, either,” Kurt says. “Not again.”

It’s so _different_ than Battery Park three and a half years ago. The situations are different -- Blaine knows that. Cheating isn’t exactly the same thing as withholding the truth about a child, but the magnitude of them feels similar. In a weird way, Blaine almost feels like they’ve come full circle. Back then, Blaine had broken Kurt’s heart by giving a piece of himself to someone else. Now, it’s almost like Blaine’s giving it back to Kurt, but there’s more to it than that. They’ve both held onto feelings for each other for so _long_ that they’d felt like pieces of themselves were missing. Kurt had made that fairly obvious by the time Blaine’s birthday rolled around. They’ve held pieces of each other for _years_ \-- Blaine in a slightly more literal sense -- and now that they’re here, now that they’re together, they can get them back.

They’re choosing to keep the pieces of each other safe, instead, and not for the first time in recent months, Blaine feels like he’s home in Kurt’s arms.

Kurt leans in for another kiss, somehow both a little more and a little less sure all at once, but it still feels like a promise, a commitment. And it feels _wonderful_ \-- Kurt’s hands warm and sure, fingers clutching the fabric of Blaine’s sleep shirt at the small of Blaine’s back; the soft mold of Kurt’s lips against his own; the way Kurt shivers when Blaine’s fingers dance across the skin at the back of his neck. It’s intimate, but not startlingly so, and for the first time since Kurt left three and a half weeks ago, Blaine feels _alive_ in his own skin. When they break apart, it’s slow and reluctant, noses still brushing against each other. Kurt exhales slowly as his eyes flutter open, and Blaine doesn’t need to feel his pulse or heartbeat to know that Kurt is just as affected. Blaine can see the slow, simmering heat of arousal in Kurt’s eyes, and if it weren’t around four in the morning and they had the opportunity to sleep in, Blaine would absolutely take advantage of it.

For now, Blaine tries to shift the focus elsewhere. “We should, um -- we should probably put the perishables away,” he suggests, surprised at how rough his voice sounds. “We have time to get a few more hours of sleep in before she wakes up, if you want. I can’t imagine you slept much last night.”

Kurt bites his lip and blushes, ducking his head. “I may have been a little anxious,” he admits. “I woke up at two and couldn’t go back to sleep. I had to get out of my apartment.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Blaine assures him, moving to start unpacking some of the bags Kurt’s brought with him, “regardless of the awkward timing.”

They’re both quiet for a few minutes as they unpack and move things around and organize, Kurt taking a few handfuls of supplies and stocking them in the refrigerator, Blaine moving the vase of roses to the center of the table. It’s only when the bags are empty and being folded that Kurt speaks up. “So you… want me to stay, then?”

Blaine glances over at him and offers him a small smile. “You’re making the cake, aren’t you?”

Kurt smiles, but it’s tight, tentative, nervous. “And your family?” he prompts slowly. “Will it be an issue for them that I’m here?”

“I don’t think so,” Blaine sighs, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist to pull him close. “Honestly, I think that overall, they’ll be glad you’re here.”

Kurt’s smile doesn’t change, but he drops his gaze again, his voice quiet. “Do you think she’ll be happy to see me?”

Blaine’s heart skips a beat with ache. He moves one of his hands so he can hook his fingers under Kurt’s chin and force eye contact again. “ _Yes_ ,” Blaine promises. “Kurt, she really missed you. She asked about you more than once.”

Under his touch, Blaine can feel Kurt relax a little. “It’s why you were so concerned, wasn’t it?” Kurt guesses. “You feel like she’s already kind of… attached?”

Blaine inhales sharply and drops his hand from Kurt’s chin, but he forces himself to maintain eye contact. “Yeah,” he admits quietly, heart thundering in his chest. “And it’s -- I swear I’m not trying to make you jump through hoops here, Kurt, but you have to know that we can’t just up and tell her today. She hasn’t seen you in over a month. She needs to get used to you being around again before we can even think about telling her. And even then, the transition might be really rough for all of us regardless of when or how we do it, Kurt. I just… want to make this as easy as possible for her.”

“Blaine,” Kurt placates calmly, anchoring a hand on Blaine’s cheek. “It’s okay. I get it -- I really, really do. And honestly? I kind of want some time with her before I totally plunge headfirst into parenthood. I know that sounds unrealistic, in ordinary circumstances, but --”

“-- but nothing about this is exactly ordinary,” Blaine finishes for him, relaxing into a smile. “Okay, so we -- we’re on the same page. We do what’s right for our family.”

A smile blossoms onto Kurt’s face. “Yeah,” he agrees softly, leaning in to wrap Blaine up in a hug. They’re both quiet for a moment, intertwined in the kitchen and settling back into their own skin. “Blaine?” Kurt prompts, even softer than before. Blaine _hmms_ in inquisitive answer. “I missed you, too,” Kurt confesses, and his voice sounds broken open, raw and unaffected. Blaine _knows_ that Kurt is scared, but Blaine also thinks that Kurt is probably more scared of a life without them -- afraid of a heart missing a piece, afraid of losing his voice again, afraid of not being a family.

And it’s _that_ that gives Blaine the most comfort of all, that makes him confident in Kurt’s commitment to this decision, to them. Because family has always been important to Kurt, and regardless of what’s happened between them in the past, they are family, now.

Blaine pulls back and reaches for Kurt’s hand, offering him a sleepy smile. “Come on,” he beckons, “let’s get some sleep. I have a feeling we both need it.”

Kurt lets himself be led into the bedroom, an anchor being pulled along, and as they slip under the covers and back into each other’s arms, Blaine finds that he feels a little like Kurt seems -- a little broken open, a little vulnerable. But Blaine also finds that he doesn’t mind -- because this? This feels safe.

It feels like home.

* * * * *

For the first time in several weeks, Blaine wakes up feeling comfortable. It’s not like the things that have been bothering him have magically gone away. He’s still stressed out about finals next week. His back and hips still ache, but it’s dull, minimal, and Blaine attributes it to finally getting quality sleep. He also knows that there are still a lot of things to be anxious about -- Kurt being around his family today, finals next week, the transition period before telling Joy the truth. But somehow, Blaine is decidedly _not_ anxious when he stretches into his skin at a quarter to eight that morning, because he wakes up next to Kurt. The world seems easy, with Kurt here, and Blaine remembers what Kurt had confessed, back in February. There’s a lot to deal with still in front of them, but they’re not alone -- they’re family.

Despite the hour and the knowledge that Joy will probably be awake soon, Blaine smiles and curls his toes, happy to watch Kurt sleep for a few more minutes. Kurt looks so much more _relaxed_ like this, young and weightless and unburdened. He’s still in the clothes he showed up in, clothes he probably put on at two-thirty in the morning, and he’s drooling a little onto Blaine’s pillow, but all of that just makes this that much better. Because this -- this is a Kurt no one else gets to see, and Blaine wants to hold him close and keep him away from the world a little longer.

Unable to help himself, Blaine leans in and presses a soft kiss to Kurt’s lips. Kurt wakes up with the softest of inhales, and his eyes are warm and sleepy and lit up when he meets Blaine’s eyes. “Morning,” Blaine murmurs, leaning back in for a second kiss.

“Mmm, officially,” Kurt murmurs back, stifling a yawn. “Time is it?”

“Quarter to eight,” Blaine answers, moving in closer so that he’s hovering over Kurt a little, hand skimming along Kurt’s side. “You know that’s sleeping in on a Saturday around here.”

“I know,” Kurt sighs. He sounds exhausted, but he doesn’t close his eyes again. Instead, he reaches for Blaine’s free hand with one of his own and tangles their fingers together, touch feather-light. Blaine shivers and inhales sharply, comfortable and just awake enough to start feeling aroused. He thinks of Kurt at seventeen, telling him that the touch of fingertips is as sexy as it gets, and Blaine would almost _laugh_ at the thought, but it’s been _five weeks_ since they’ve had sex. A touch of fingertips is more than a good start right now. Kurt notices, if the way his cock is starting to fill and harden under Blaine’s arm is any indication, and it’s with a low voice that Kurt asks, “How long do you think we have before she wakes up?”

“Not long,” Blaine admits, squeezing Kurt’s waist a little tighter. “I’m surprised she’s not already up, honestly.”

Kurt bites his lip, looking torn. “I really want to take my time with you,” he admits, breathless and quiet, free hand skimming up and down Blaine’s arm. “But I’m, uh, not sure I have the patience to wait.” Kurt’s hand moves from Blaine arm down to the hem of his shirt, fingers sneaking up under the material and dragging heavily along the small of Blaine’s back. And _oh_ , that feels nice, especially considering how much Blaine’s back has been bothering him lately.

Against his better judgement, Blaine spares a quick glance over at the alarm clock and offers Kurt a suggestive smile. “Think you can make the most out of the next ten minutes?”

Kurt’s eyes spark awake. “Make it fifteen and you’ve got yourself a deal,” he breathes. He arches up for a kiss, fingers digging in a little harder into Blaine’s back, and Blaine’s just about to meet Kurt’s lips with his own when --

_*honk*_

Blaine hesitates just shy of Kurt’s lips, waiting, and it’s only a few more seconds before he hears the sound again. He groans into his laugh and rests his forehead against Kurt’s. “Rain check?” he sighs, pulling back.

Kurt smiles, fingers dancing along Blaine’s brow, now. “Rain check,” he agrees. “I didn’t realize the festivities would be starting this early.”

“You can blame Cooper,” Blaine says by way of explanation as he untangles himself from Kurt and clambers out of bed. “He’s the one supplying secret stashes of ammunition.” Blaine darts in to give Kurt a quick kiss before leaving his bedroom for Joy’s.

Blaine just barely stifles a laugh when he sees Joy still tucked comfortably under her blankets, noisemaker in her hands. She’s grinning from ear to ear, Margaret Thatcher tucked dutifully under her arm. Her enthusiasm is infectious, even at this hour and with how tired Blaine is, and he finds himself grinning in reply. “You rang, your Highness?” She blows into the noisemaker again instead of answering him, though Blaine supposes that should be answer enough. He sighs and settles down next to her on the bed, eyes sweeping over her surrounding pillows and blankets in search of a secret stash. “Uncle Coop gave you that last night, didn’t he?” Joy bites her lip and ducks her head, still not answering him, but Blaine doesn’t need her to. “Well, it _is_ your birthday,” Blaine reasons. “I did promise you could use it all you wanted today.”

“It’s a party!” Joy reminds him, voice bright and far too enthusiastic for having just woken up. It’s such a stark contrast to how sleepy and lethargic she normally is when she first wakes up in the morning, and Blaine _knows_ it’s because Cooper left the noisemakers at her disposal when he put her to sleep last night. This is going to set the tone for the whole day, and while Blaine is happy that Joy is happy, her boundless enthusiasm and energy is probably going to be exhausting. “Can I have cake?”

“Not for breakfast, silly,” Blaine laughs, tapping her nose affectionately. “It’s not even made yet!”

“I suppose that’s my cue,” a voice interjects, and Blaine glances over his shoulder to find Kurt standing in Joy’s doorway. His clothes are horribly wrinkled and he looks marginally less tired than he did a few minutes ago, but all of that is overshadowed by the hope in his eyes and his smile when he finally gets a glimpse of Joy.

Blaine thinks Kurt must have really missed Joy, too.

Blaine turns back to Joy just as she finally gets a real glimpse of Kurt, and the way her whole face lights up at the sight of him both fuels and eases Blaine’s trepidation. “Kurt!” she exclaims, immediately dropping the noisemaker and scrambling awkwardly to get out of bed. Blaine offers her his hand so she doesn’t trip over the edge of the blankets, but the contact is brief, because as soon as her feet hit the floor, she lets go of his hand and runs over to the door. Blaine tugs Margaret Thatcher into his hands just to keep himself occupied, running his thumbs over the ears as Kurt kneels down to greet their daughter. “Hi!” Joy says happily, hurtling herself into Kurt’s embrace.

“Hi,” Kurt greets, warm and breathless. He wraps his arms around Joy and pulls her close, chin tucked over her shoulder. His eyes slip shut when Joy’s arms wrap tightly around his neck, and Blaine recognizes the aching affection on Kurt’s face.

Kurt loves her.

Kurt _loves_ her, and it takes Blaine’s breath away to the point where he has to drop his gaze down to the plush animal in his hands for a moment to collect himself. He’s not jealous. He’s not unhappy. This is what he _wanted_ , what he thought would be best for Joy, what he thought could be a good opportunity for Kurt. This is the best case scenario, but Blaine feels almost… unsettled by it. It feels almost too simple, too easy that this is their reality, now, and even though there will still be more change to come, it’s only going to make all of this more real.

With Margaret Thatcher in his hands, Blaine remembers what it felt like when Kurt had first given her to him. Blaine remembers the sweet gesture, the attempt at cheering him up after a rough week. He remembers feeling like he had something tangible to represent his relationship with Kurt, remembers how much it had helped when he’d felt like he was losing so much -- like he was losing his family.

His family is _here_ , now, and with all of the pieces in place, Blaine can finally put them together.

He’s hesitant, though, and he knows it’s because he’s afraid of losing pieces again. This is so _different_ than it was before. Having the pieces is one thing; putting them together is another. To lose a piece after they’ve all connected is so much more catastrophic. They’re not just pieces again, if that happens -- they’re _broken_. It’s what he’d warned Kurt about, earlier, why he’d insisted that Kurt be absolutely sure before committing to this -- to them.

But Kurt is _here_ , and he’s holding onto their daughter like he doesn’t want to let go. And with Margaret Thatcher in his hands, Blaine realizes that he has all the proof he needs that this is going to work. Margaret may be a little old and worn and patched up in places, but she’s still here, still in one piece. She’s survived years of being put on display and tucked away and held tightly, gathering dirt and dust but always washing up clean. And really, Blaine’s relationship with Kurt isn’t all that different -- there’s history and ugly marks and mended wounds, but there’s also a plethora of fond memories and lingering feelings and affectionate touches. And they’re here, now, on the other side of all that they’ve been through, and even though there’s still a lot in front of them, Blaine can appreciate where they are now and how much they have to show for it.

Blaine glances back up just as Kurt pulls away from Joy, hands lingering on her waist. Kurt looks like he’s going to cry, but his smile more than makes up for how shaken he seems. “I missed you,” he says, sniffing a little to try and regain his composure. “I, um -- I wanted to be here, for your birthday.”

“Are you going to stay?” Joy asks.

Blaine’s chest aches a little with the question, but it all dissipates when Kurt glances over at him and smiles. “Yeah,” Kurt says, and Blaine knows it’s a promise. “I’ll stay.” Kurt turns his attention back to Joy and takes a breath to steady himself. “Would you like to help me make your cake?”

Joy nods vigorously in answer, but she hesitates briefly after, turning to face Blaine again. “Can I?”

Blaine smiles and nods his approval. “Sure, but go use the bathroom and wash your hands first, okay?”

Kurt smiles at her over his shoulder as she bounds past him across the hall. He pushes himself to his feet when she shuts the bathroom door behind her and turns his attention back to Blaine, smile faltering. He looks nervous and unsure, and his voice is quiet when he asks, “How long do we have until your family arrives?”

“A little over an hour, maybe?” Blaine guesses, awkwardly toying with the plush animal in his hands. “They’re supposed to be here around nine. I was… kind of hoping to get a shower in before they got here, if you’re okay with that? I know you can handle her, but if you want someone available to you just in case, I can wait --”

“Blaine,” Kurt interjects, sinking down next to him on the tiny mattress, “it’s fine. I’d… honestly kind of like some time alone with her before they get here, if that’s okay. I just --” He glances down at the mattress, tension obvious in his shoulders. “Being in the kitchen relaxes me and being with Joy makes me feel like I can do anything and I just -- I need that, before I have to face your family today.”

Blaine bites back an affectionate smile. “Are you nervous?”

Kurt flicks his eyes back up, lips twisted in half-annoyance, half-amusement. “Don’t judge me,” he snaps, but there’s no real bite behind his words, and his lips untwist and blossom into a real smile at the memory Blaine knows they’ve both just recalled. “Okay,” Kurt allows, laughing quietly, “you can judge me.”

Blaine sets Margaret Thatcher aside and reaches for one of Kurt’s hands to anchor them both. “I won’t,” he assures Kurt, just as quiet. “It’s not a test, Kurt.”

Kurt inhales sharply and sits up a little straighter. He looks slightly more relaxed but still fairly tense. “It’s not a test,” he echoes, almost like he’s trying to convince himself of it.

“And it’s not an evaluation,” Blaine adds, feeling like maybe he should cover any and all qualifiers to put Kurt’s mind at ease.

“It’s not an evaluation,” Kurt repeats, and oh, he’s… actually kind of taking this seriously, jesus.

Blaine wants to lighten the mood, wants to put Kurt’s mind at ease, but he also doesn’t want Kurt to feel like Blaine’s not taking his concerns seriously. Blaine knows that today might be a little… awkward, but he also knows that his family will be supportive and put Joy first. And after his conversation with his father last night, Blaine is a little more confident that Kurt really doesn’t have all that much to worry about. But Kurt doesn’t know any of that -- he doesn’t have Blaine’s experiences, hasn’t spent time with Blaine’s family in years, doesn’t know how different their family dynamics are since Joy was born. Kurt’s concerns and nerves are entirely valid, but Blaine wants to put his mind at ease. So Blaine takes a second to find the right words and, again, tries not to smile. “And it’s not a crash-course in --”

“Okay, okay, I _get it_ ,” Kurt says, dropping his gaze to his lap again and sounding a little irritated.

Blaine’s heart drops a little, but he realizes, then, sitting in their daughter’s room holding Kurt’s hand, that the way Kurt’s feeling isn’t actually all that unfamiliar to him. Kurt probably feels like he has a lot to live up to, a lot to prove -- to all of them -- and Blaine realizes that he’s probably contributed to that in recent months. That makes Blaine feel a little guilty because he _knows_ what this feels like, even if the circumstances aren’t exactly the same. He remembers the way his heart had stopped in his chest when his parents had finally arrived at the hospital and found Joy in his arms. He remembers being terrified that his parents wouldn’t support his decision, wouldn’t support _them_. And even after they’d surprised him with their blessing and support, the feelings of panic didn’t entirely go away. It’d been really hard, in the beginning, trying to figure out how to be a parent and take care of his daughter and soothe her. He’d been so afraid of doing something wrong, of hurting her, of _failing_ her. But he feels like he’s done fairly well, so far, and he knows that part of it is due to the support he’s gotten from his family.

He wants Kurt to feel like that, now. But Blaine is at a loss for words to make Kurt feel better, so he turns to touch to communicate instead. He adjusts his grip on Kurt’s hand and reaches out his free hand, hooking his fingers under Kurt’s chin to force Kurt to meet his eyes again. “Okay?” he checks, ducking his head a little and keeping his voice soft and warm.

Blaine can feel Kurt practically melt under his touch. “Okay,” Kurt breathes, eyes flicking down to Blaine’s lips. Blaine leans in and kisses Kurt without a second thought, shivering when Kurt’s fingertips brush against his collarbone.

Blaine starts when something hits him on the arm, blinking his eyes open as he pulls away. His gaze lands on Joy standing next to them, lips pursed around a noisemaker again. There’s a mischievous spark in her eyes, but there’s something else there, too -- curiosity, maybe. Blaine’s not entirely sure if this is the first time she’s caught them being this blatantly… intimate in front of her before. But she doesn’t even ask any questions, just grins as she drops the noisemaker again, and Blaine takes it as the cue he knows she means it to be. Matching her grin with his own, Blaine leans down and hoists her into his arms before pushing himself to his feet and spinning her around. Her squeals of half-hearted protest and utter delight make her feel almost weightless in his arms, but almost isn’t quite good enough. Blaine feels the ache in his back and hips as he adjusts her in his arms and slows to a stop, but he masks his discomfort with a tight smile and tries not to think about it. “Okay, party animal,” he laughs, “how about you channel all of this extra energy into helping Kurt make your cake, okay?” He presses a warm kiss to her temple, relaxing when he catches Kurt’s warm gaze trained on them. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Joy ducks her head, color tinging her cheeks, her hands toying with Blaine’s fingers. She looks almost touched, for all that she’s _three_ , but Blaine becomes more convinced when Joy leans back in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He feels the same sort of emotional transference he’s felt with Kurt recently, this time from daughter to father, and somehow this alone makes Blaine feel a lot better. Pleased, Blaine sets her down on the floor and watches her set off down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Kurt is just as quick to move, but he moves to Blaine, first, instead. Kurt takes Blaine’s head in his hands and kisses him hard and heated. Blaine inhales sharply and barely has time to anchor his hands on Kurt’s waist before Kurt breaks the kiss. “Rain check,” Kurt says breathlessly, eyes locked with Blaine’s. “I’m cashing in the rain check tonight, after she’s asleep and everyone else is gone.”

It takes Blaine a minute to remember that Kurt has a _thing_ for Blaine being a father, but by the time Blaine realizes what sparked Kurt’s arousal (and how the flame will only be fanned into burning bigger and brighter throughout the rest of the day), Blaine is left to smile a little stupidly after Kurt as he leaves to accompany Joy to the kitchen.

In the shower, Blaine takes his time. He wants to give Kurt a little extra time to be with Joy, especially today and particularly after his long absence. Plus, taking a little longer in the shower gives Blaine a little time to himself, time to just… breathe and settle into his skin and regroup before he has to face the rest of the day. The quiet and building steam is peaceful and relaxing, and the hot water is _heaven_ on his muscles, particularly his lower back. He may try and coerce Kurt into giving him a back massage later, maybe as a precursor to cashing in their rain check.

Blaine takes a little extra time selecting his attire for the day. Part of it is that he’s distracted by the rediscovery of parts of Kurt’s wardrobe mixed in with his own; Blaine can’t help but smile every time he moves hangers or opens drawers with Kurt’s clothes. But Blaine is also struggling with finding a good balance for his outfit today. He wants to look nice for Joy’s birthday, but he also knows the hazards of being around a toddler, particularly when they’re out and about or cake is involved. In the end, he opts for blue jeans and comfortable shoes since they’ll be spending a good portion of the day walking around. He pairs them with a lavender, short-sleeved button-down and a white, cupcake-patterned bow tie in honor of the occasion, aiming for a casual sort of sophistication.

When Blaine finally goes to join Kurt and Joy in the kitchen, he stops and hovers just on the threshold at the sight that greets him. Kurt’s unearthed one of the footstools Blaine keeps around so Joy can stand on it and actually be taller than the counter. They look like they’re close to being able to put the cake batter in the oven, bodies pressed close as they work. Joy’s shoulders keep brushing against Kurt’s hips, an accidental dance, and Blaine takes a few steps back into the living room to grab his camera off of one of the side tables. He’s quiet as he starts the obligatory birthday documentation, heart skipping a beat when the shutter of his camera captures Kurt and Joy exchanging a smile.

Blaine deposits his camera on the kitchen table and greets them with a silent smile as he moves to the coffee machine to make a pot for the adults. Once he’s got the coffee brewing, he leans against the counter and watches Kurt pour the batter into a cake pan. Joy stands on her tiptoes and tries to peer awkwardly around Kurt’s arm as he scrapes out the mixing bowl, clearly restless and fidgeting and wanting to help more. Blaine reaches out a hand, beckoning her. “Come here, honey.”

Her fingers grip the edge of the counter tighter as she looks over at Blaine. “But I’m helping,” she protests.

It’s Kurt who handles her protest after rinsing out the mixing bowl and adding it to the neat pile of dirty dishes next to the sink. “I know,” Kurt placates, turning to face her and kneeling down so he’s closer to eye-level with her. “You were a _great_ help. But the cake has to go in the oven now, and the oven is really hot, remember? If you’re not careful, you could burn yourself. We just don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

Blaine smiles appreciatively at him. He knows that Kurt has always followed Blaine’s lead when it comes to educating and disciplining Joy. This, at the very least, shows that Kurt has been paying attention and is trying to be consistent as a parent and authority figure. Joy may only be a toddler, but she’s getting older, and she’s always been fairly perceptive. Blaine’s never felt all that comfortable just telling her _no_ ; he usually likes to try and explain why, if he can. It’s particularly beneficial in situations like this, and he’s grateful that Kurt is already taking steps into putting them on equal ground. If Joy’s going to really be able to accept Kurt as a parent, she not only has to be accustomed to his presence again, but he also has to behave in ways that are familiar and acceptable to her. Too much change too quickly and without explanation would be too difficult for her, and while Blaine knows that they don’t want that for her, it’s nice to see Kurt putting effort into making sure it doesn’t happen.

Joy sighs and hops off of the stool, sliding her hand into Blaine’s. “Okay,” she agrees, sounding a little reluctant.

Kurt makes quick work of sliding the cake pan into the oven and setting a timer. He tries to smooth out some of the wrinkles in his clothes as he turns to face them again, gaze darting briefly to the clock on the microwave. “They’ll be here soon,” he says, sounding nervous again.

“Joy, why don’t you take Kurt with you to your room?” Blaine ventures, inspiration striking. “Have him help you pick out whatever you want to wear for your birthday, okay?”

Joy’s eyes brighten as she looks up at him. “Can I wear my pretty shoes?”

Blaine bites his lip, contemplating. They’re going to be doing a fair amount of walking today, so the shoes aren’t really practical, but he thinks he may have a way to compromise. “You can wear them,” Blaine allows, “but I’m going to bring an extra pair for when we go out later. So if your feet start to hurt, you have to change your shoes, okay?”

“Okay!” Joy concedes happily, but Blaine doubts she even really registered much beyond his permission. She lets go of his hand and reaches out for Kurt, tugging insistently on his hand to get him to follow her. Kurt glances over his shoulder on his way out and mouths _thank you_ at Blaine. Blaine just shakes his head in amusement and turns his attention to the brewed coffee. It’s not the Blaine doesn’t love clothes, but the way that Kurt loves them (and uses them) is different. And even though Joy isn’t a huge fan of layers, she loves exploring the variety that fashion offers and is starting to use it to express herself. She reminds him so much of Kurt in that, and with less than ten minutes before his family is supposed to arrive, Blaine figures that this is probably the last time Kurt will really get to be alone with Joy today. Blaine wants to make it count.

He pours and doctors two mugs of coffee, leaving one for Kurt and the rest of the pot for his parents and Cooper, just in case. He leaves his own mug untouched for a few minutes while he unearths a few things from the refrigerator for breakfast and fills Joy’s special cup up with juice. He’s just taking out the dishes they’ll need to cook when there’s finally a knock on the door, and one click glance over at the clock on the microwave lets Blaine know that is family is right on time. They usually are, although it’s sometimes a gamble with Cooper involved.

Blaine straightens up a little and tries to relax. He feels Kurt’s nerves easily, now, but he also knows where they stem from and how he can (hopefully) get rid of them. He just needs to get past the initial reintroduction and lay down some ground rules and everything will be _fine_. He can’t imagine that his parents will put Kurt through the third-degree -- at least not today. Blaine just has to exhibit control over the situation before they have the opportunity to even think about it.

They’re all smiles and warm greetings when he answers the door, arms full of an array of neatly-wrapped gifts for Joy. His mother’s the first to say anything of value after Blaine shuts the door behind them. “Are you baking?” she inquires, moving to set some of the gifts down in the living room. “I thought I was making the cake today.”

“Yeah,” Blaine sighs, rubbing at his temple. “About that --”

“-- the one with the owls,” Joy says, voice growing louder as she emerges from the hallway. Blaine glances over at her briefly to see her holding Kurt’s hand with one of her own and gesturing to her clothes with the other. She’s wearing [a bright, multi-colored, heart patterned dress](http://oi60.tinypic.com/2iu9wdt.jpg) over a pair of white leggings with [her favorite pair of shoes](http://oi62.tinypic.com/2817tvq.jpg). The outfit doesn’t _quite_ go together, and the fact that she’s in it tells Blaine that Kurt probably refrained from trying to get her to coordinate better. The fact that she’s even wearing the leggings is probably his influence -- _because of the layers_ , Blaine imagines him saying. But Blaine knows exactly what she’s talking about -- a gray, owl-patterned cardigan she’d gotten from his parents for Christmas -- and makes a mental note to add it to her bag before they leave later.

But that’s all Blaine gets the chance to really think about before everyone else in the room realizes what’s going on -- who else is here. Kurt tenses visibly at the sight of Blaine’s family, but Blaine can tell that he’s _trying_ to relax, if the way his mouth twitches into a tentative smile is anything to go by. Blaine swallows thickly before turning back to his family to lay down the law for the day -- namely that everyone has to get along for Joy’s sake -- but he soon realizes that _he doesn’t have to_. He notices his mother’s reaction first; her expression quickly shifts from surprise to pleased, and she barely does more than smile approvingly in Kurt’s direction before pressing a quick kiss to Blaine’s cheek. “I’ll start breakfast, then,” she announces, moving toward the kitchen. “I’ll keep an eye on the timer for the cake?”

“I -- sure,” Kurt breathes, clearly a little caught off guard. “Thank you.”

Blaine’s father doesn’t do much beyond acknowledging Kurt’s presence (and, Blaine knows, what it means), but as he moves to set the rest of the gifts down in the living room, he gives Blaine a look that clearly means _I told you we didn’t want to make things harder for you_. Blaine relaxes into a grateful smile and turns his attention to Cooper, who’s holding his arms out for Joy to jump into. She obliges immediately, _thrilled_ at the sight of him, and her face only lights up even more when Cooper unearths a brand new bag of noisemakers with a dramatic flourish. Blaine just barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “They’re going to be everywhere after you leave. I’m going to have to go on a scavenger hunt just to find them all.”

“You know,” Cooper says dryly, not refraining from rolling his eyes, “it’s more fun if you join in.” He holds one of the noisemakers out in Blaine’s direction in offering, eyebrows raised in expectation. Blaine sighs but takes it from him, inspiration striking quickly. He grins and leans down, blowing the noisemaker in Cooper’s face before he can even think twice about it. He’s rewarded with Cooper’s scrunched up look of surprise and Joy’s approving giggle.

Joy reaches into the bag and grips one of the noisemakers with improved dexterity, pulling it out and holding it out in Kurt’s direction. “Do you want one?” she offers kindly.

Kurt hesitates for a moment, meeting Cooper’s eyes, but he reaches out and takes the proffered noisemaker from Joy. “Thank you,” he says quietly, kneeling down in front of her. He studies it for a moment before putting it to his lips and blowing it in Cooper’s face, eyes sparkling.

Joy buries her face against Cooper’s shoulder in an attempt to shield herself, but Cooper’s eyes match Kurt’s wicked enthusiasm. “I see how it is. If you two are ganging up on me, I call the birthday girl for my team. This means _war_ ,” he announces dramatically. He hoists Joy up into his arms as he pushes himself to his feet, carrying her to the other side of the living room to greet her grandfather.

Blaine reaches for Kurt’s hand and pulls Kurt to his feet. Kurt’s eyes are focused on Blaine’s father, though, and he’s quiet for a half-moment before turning to Blaine with a half-smile. “I guess I can live with awkward civility,” he sighs, laughing quietly.

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand a little tighter and pulls him closer. “They all just want what’s best for their family,” he explains, trying to soothe Kurt’s frayed nerves. “You’re part of that, now.”

Kurt drops his gaze to where their hands are joined, brow knit with worry. “Blaine, I haven’t seen your family in years,” he murmurs, deliberately keeping his voice low so he’s not overheard. “Other than Cooper, they weren’t exactly all that thrilled about me being around before.”

Blaine runs his thumb across the back of Kurt’s hand. “I know,” he says, keeping his voice just as quiet. “But that’s kind of my point -- you haven’t seen them in years. You don’t know how Joy has affected them, our relationships with each other. They’re not the same people you thought they were -- the same people _I_ thought they were,” Blaine admits. “We’re not kids anymore, Kurt. They’re not going to treat us like we are.”

Kurt bites his lip and rolls his shoulder back uncomfortably. “I don’t --” He stops, clearly trying to find the right way to articulate what he’s thinking and feeling. “I don’t know what they expect of me,” he admits.

Blaine reaches for the noisemaker in Kurt’s other hand and sets both noisemakers down on one of the side tables. He takes up both of Kurt’s hands, now, and finally gets Kurt to look back up at him. “I think all they expect out of you is to do what you want, which is to _be here_ for our daughter.”

Kurt’s face relaxes a little, but he glances over at the couch where Joy is talking animatedly with Blaine’s father. Blaine knows that Kurt’s making sure Joy hasn’t overheard them, but she’s completely engrossed in her conversation, and Blaine’s mouth twists into a smile at the sight of his father’s amused expression. “They _adore_ her, don’t they?” Kurt breathes.

“Yeah,” Blaine says warmly, unable to contain his smile. “It’s kind of impossible not to fall in love with her.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, even more quiet than before, and there’s something so tender in his tone that it takes Blaine’s breath away. They’re both quiet for a moment before Kurt turns back to face him, biting back a smile. “You really think everything’s going to be okay, don’t you?”

“With time?” Blaine says. “Yeah, I do.”

* * * * *

At the end of the night, after Joy’s been put to sleep and his family has gone back to their hotel, Blaine sinks onto the couch and takes a minute to breathe. It’s quiet, particularly after the noisy, eventful day they all had, but it’s a welcome quiet. His to-do list is much shorter tonight thanks to the combined efforts of his family, but he also knows that there are still things to do. He still has to finish studying for finals next week, but Blaine is _exhausted_. He honestly just kind of wants to use the quiet to regroup. He wants to clear his mind so his brain is more than just barely functional. He wants a bubble bath or a massage to soothe his aching back and hips. He wants a cup of tea and Kurt against his side, but Blaine doesn’t have the energy to get off of the couch right now. He spots his camera on the coffee table and forces himself to sit up a little and reach for it.

Photography has always been more than just a hobby for him. It’s been a way for him to express himself, much in the same way music used to be, much in the same way that clothes are for Kurt and for Joy. But it’s also been a way for Blaine to gain clarity and better understanding of the world. It’s always felt so _easy_ to him -- point, focus, click, capture. It’s not -- he’s never thought that he minimizes or trivializes his experiences or the people he captures in his photographs. He’s always felt the opposite, actually -- like capturing them on film emphasized how important they are to him, like he wants to immortalize the memories.

Today wasn’t any different. Reaching for his camera outside of the kitchen this morning had felt like second nature, and carrying it around all day was like toting around an extension of himself. The camera is almost like a second brain, and right now, going through the photographs taken today is exactly what he needs to reset his brain. So he settles back against the cushions and clicks through the photos from Joy’s birthday adventures, face automatically relaxing into a smile.

There are highlights, obviously, photographs that stand out above the rest. There’s the first photograph he’d snapped this morning -- Kurt and Joy side by side at the kitchen counter. The height difference between them, even with Joy on the step stool, is ridiculously comical, and Blaine can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

There’s the collection of photographs from their visit to the Bronx zoo, and there are highlights among those, too. There’s a shot of Cooper and Joy using their noisemakers to imitate the elephants, and Blaine remembers conceding defeat in favor of supporting Joy’s clever association. There’s a candid of Joy passed out in Blaine’s lap for naptime, cheek nestled against his chest. Blaine’s not sure who was handling his camera at the time, but he remembers feeling exhausted and wanting to take his own nap, his body aching. But she’d specifically sought him out when she’d started to get sleepy, and above all else, that had made Blaine feel particularly loved. It’s reflected in the photograph, in the way Joy’s fingers are curled into his shirt, in his hand anchored on her back. The standout shot from their time at the zoo is easily one taken inside of the World of Birds exhibit, Joy wrapped up in her owl sweater and balanced on Kurt’s hip. This one Blaine remembers in striking clarity, because he’d taken it himself. He remembers Kurt picking Joy up so that she could get a better glimpse of the birds, remembers how absolutely _enthralled_ she’d been with the white-throated bee-eaters. But Blaine’s favorite part of the photograph is definitely the way their faces are illuminated by the light from the aviary, refracted through glass.

There are the pictures from their celebrations at home in the evening as well, most of them taken during the presentation and cutting of the cake and opening of gifts. It’d all been a whirlwind of color and activity -- the raspberry filling of the cake, the varying patterns of wrapping paper. Joy’s delight is obvious on film, reflecting brightly in shared pieces of cake and new books and hair bows and good company. But again, Blaine’s favorite of the bunch is one of Kurt and Joy. Kurt had contributed a few gifts to the pile just like everyone else had, but the one that had made its mark had been one he hadn’t actually acquired yet. Blaine knows he didn’t take this one -- he has a distinct memory of his mother picking up the camera for this shot. But his mother had done the moment the same justice Blaine would’ve attempted if he’d been holding the camera at the time. On film, Joy’s fingers are reverently touching the edges of a frame that Kurt’s holding; inside of the frame is the sketch that Blaine remembers Kurt drawing at the end of March. Joy had been just as captivated by it tonight as she had been six weeks ago, but she’d been practically speechless when Kurt had promised to bring the sketch to life for her. The moment captured on film takes Blaine’s breath away, and he has to take a minute to remember how to breathe before he can look at the rest of the pictures.

The end of today’s captures aren’t exactly birthday specific, but Blaine’s still glad he took them anyway. He has plenty of photographs of Joy with his parents over the last three years, but he always finds value in taking more. He likes documenting Joy’s growth and changes, of course, but he likes being able to capture his parents along with that, likes watching them change with her. In a way, Blaine feels like he almost gets the opportunity to watch his parents be, well, parents when they’re with her. His memories of his own childhood are vague and skewed and biased, and he knows that seeing them with Joy isn’t a reliable replica. She’s his child, not theirs, but watching them with her proves to Blaine that they’re good parents (and maybe it makes him feel like he turned out okay, too). Of the memories captured tonight, Blaine has a favorite of each of his parents: his father’s, a moment from bathtime, Joy covered in soap suds, tapping his father’s nose; his mother’s -- from bedtime, Joy perched upon her lap, their fingers gripping the edges of a new book.

Reaching the end of today’s roll, Blaine sets the camera back down on the coffee table and thinks about the memories he has tucked away in the pages of scrapbooks. He has one for every year, each carefully and artfully crafted to commemorate both the everyday and the milestones in Joy’s life. With today’s photographs fresh in his mind, Blaine realizes that this is really the first time that Kurt will start to make appearances in the scrapbooks. And Blaine remembers, now, what Kurt had said last month about having years of history to catch up on.

Inspired and remarkably relaxed in comparison to when he first sat down, Blaine finally pushes himself to his feet and makes his way down the hall. He thinks he’ll find Kurt in Joy’s room, even though she’s already asleep, but Blaine is proved wrong when he stops outside of the bathroom and hears the shower running. Blaine enters the bathroom and leaves the door open just slightly behind him, just in case. “Hey,” he greets, struggling to find a good volume to speak at. He wants Kurt to be able to hear him, but Joy is asleep just across the hall and Blaine doesn’t want to wake her. “You almost done?”

“Not quite,” Kurt answers from behind the shower curtain. “Did you need something?”

“Not exactly,” Blaine says, sitting down on top of the toilet seat. He tries to sit up as straight as he can and uses the tank as support in the hopes that it’ll help his back feel better. “I just thought of something and wanted to share it with you, but I can wait until you’re done.”

“You can tell me now and show me later, if you want,” Kurt suggests, the definitive _click_ of one of the bottles in the shower marking his progress.

Blaine rolls his shoulders back and glances over at the towel on the counter, relaxing into a smile at the sight of all three of their toothbrushes lined up next to each other. “Last month, before you -- before you knew,” he says, choosing his words carefully, “when you were asking a lot of questions about Joy, you said that you had a lot of history to catch up on.”

“I was fishing for information, you know that,” Kurt reminds him.

“I know, but what you said was actually kind of true? There’s… a lot that you missed out on,” Blaine says, hoping they’ve put the worst of the argument behind them.

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees faintly. “Where… exactly are you going with this?”

“I want to help,” Blaine explains, earnest. “I’ve saved up a lot over the years, but I’ve been making scrapbooks for a long time. I thought sharing those with you might be a good place to start.”

Kurt’s quiet for a moment before he pulls the shower curtain back and smiles warmly in Blaine’s direction. “Come join me?” he prompts, holding out a hand in offering.

“I don’t usually like to shower at night,” Blaine reminds him, unable to resist sweeping his eyes over Kurt’s wet, naked body. “You know, the hair and all.”

“You can keep mostly out of the spray,” Kurt suggests, a few stray locks of hair falling onto his forehead. Blaine hesitates, shifting a little uncomfortably on the toilet seat. They haven’t showered together in years, and even though Kurt’s return has been mostly positive, this is a form of intimacy they haven’t reacquainted themselves with quite yet. “It’s just -- it’s nice, the thought,” Kurt explains, shrugging a little. “It’s nice that you thought of that. And it’d be really nice to be close to you right now.”

Blaine relaxes, shoulders sagging and back slumping against the tank behind him. “That… does sound nice,” he admits, pushing himself to his feet. He tugs a little nervously at the knot of his bowtie, sliding it off and setting it on the counter. He sets to work undoing the buttons of his shirt, trying not to focus on the way Kurt’s gaze turns a little heated. “I, um -- I have a scrapbook for each year,” he explains, trying to get back on track. “Obviously I’ve had to be a little choosy with what goes in them, but each of them starts with a birthday, basically,” he continues, shrugging out of his shirt and undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. “Well, except for the first two,” he clarifies, tugging his jeans and underwear down in one go.

“The, um -- the first two?” Kurt echos, face flushed as he gives Blaine a half-deliberate once-over.

Blaine’s mouth twists into a smile as he places his hand in Kurt’s proffered one, effectively refocusing Kurt’s attention. “Yes,” Blaine laughs, stepping over the side of the tub and closing the curtain behind him. “One of them starts with the day she was born, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Kurt parrots, clearly only paying half-attention as he turns Blaine away from the spray of the water. He tugs Blaine’s back up against his chest and hooks an arm around Blaine’s abdomen, chin resting comfortably on Blaine’s shoulder. And it _is_ kind of nice, being pressed up against Kurt like this in the steam as the water swirls and runs around their feet. “What made you think of them?” Kurt asks.

Blaine’s eyes slip shut and he exhales slowly. It’s not a bubble bath and it’s not a back massage, but it’s being close to Kurt in a relaxing environment without any interruptions, and right now, that’s more than enough. “I was looking at the pictures from today,” Blaine explains. He pauses for a minute before adding, “It’s just -- it’ll be the first time you’ll actually be in any of the scrapbooks.”

Kurt’s tightens his hold around Blaine’s waist. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs. “I love that you thought of me, but do you think maybe we could… hold off on looking through them? Today’s just been… a lot,” he breathes, shifting and resting his forehead on Blaine’s shoulder. “And I know we’re alone right now, but your family isn’t leaving until Monday, and then you have finals all week and I just --” He huffs heavily against Blaine’s skin, the sensation making Blaine shiver a little. “I don’t want to just flip through them like I’m cramming for an exam,” Kurt admits with a slight laugh. “I want to take my time with them, really try to remember and appreciate everything.”

Blaine melts back against him, arching his neck so his head is resting on Kurt’s shoulder. “Does this mean we have a series of standing dates for a while, then?”

Kurt presses a kiss to Blaine’s shoulder, lips moving up to Blaine’s neck. “Definitely,” Kurt promises, “but right now, I’d like to cash in that rain check and take my time with _you_ , if that’s okay?” He kisses up the column of Blaine’s throat over to his jaw, briefly detouring to nip at Blaine’s earlobe. Blaine reaches an arm back, anchoring a hand in Kurt’s hair and feeling the water hit his skin. He arches back a little to tease, fully prepared to suggest that they move this out of the shower and into the bedroom, but a soft, strangled moan slips past his lips when he feels the length of Kurt’s cock starting to swell and harden against the sell of his ass. Kurt grins against his ear. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Five weeks,” Blaine gasps, turning around so they’re facing each other. “Five weeks and you’re _naked_ and _wet_ and _you invited me into the shower with you_ , Kurt. Of course it’s a yes.”

Kurt grips Blaine’s waist _hard_ and presses Blaine against the shower wall, knee nudging Blaine’s legs apart slightly. He captures Blaine’s mouth in a searing, stinging kiss and doesn’t let up, hands warm against Blaine’s bare skin. Blaine inhales sharply and tangles his fingers in Kurt’s hair again to keep him close, needing an anchor. It was never like this, before, being with Kurt in the shower. When they were teenagers, they’d been initially excited to try having sex in the shower, but they’d been fairly disappointed upon discovering just how awkward and difficult and impractical it was to do. In the end, their showers together had been rare and mostly functional, but the sentiment, at least, had still been the same -- and that hasn’t changed. It’s wonderfully intimate in a way that Blaine has always appreciated, particularly _because_ it’s Kurt. To Blaine, being in the shower with Kurt is a lot like watching Kurt put his clothes back on -- it’s a privilege because it’s a version of Kurt no one else gets to see, bare and vulnerable and unarmed. The shower has the added bonus of letting Blaine see Kurt expose and evaluate and erase his imperfections and flaws, and even after, when Kurt layers his armor back on, Blaine knows that they’re still there.

Kurt’s hand slips down between Blaine’s legs to dip into the wet slick gathering at Blaine’s entrance and drag it up through the folds of his labia, and for the first time all day, Blaine feels like _this_ is his Kurt, the Kurt he’s been so hopelessly in love with for over five years. This is the Kurt who is unabashed and uninhibited, the Kurt who wants and needs them so _much_. This is the Kurt who is unafraid to _be_ afraid, the Kurt who is here _proving_ his commitment to his family. This is the Kurt who embraces everything he is, the skin he lives in, flaws and all, the Kurt whose skin is taking up the armor of father.

And when Kurt presses two fingers up into Blaine’s pussy, Blaine tosses his head back and revels in the proof that Kurt has always accepted _Blaine_ for who he is, too. Kurt has accepted Blaine regardless of the roles that Blaine feels obligated to fill, regardless of the armor that Blaine wears out of necessity, regardless of the parts he has. Kurt has accepted Blaine for so _many_ reasons -- the way Blaine uses clothes to peel away layers, the way he uses or silences his voice, the way his heart beats him _senselessly_. But more than anything, Blaine thinks that Kurt has always given him room to be himself.

That, Blaine thinks, gasping as Kurt’s thumb starts to rub circles over his clit, is something that Kurt taught him. Kurt had accepted him, flaws and all, and when Kurt had been ready to go back to McKinley, Blaine had been ready to give Kurt the space and freedom he needed to be himself, to be comfortable in his own skin again. And Blaine remembers Kurt’s promise, back then, to never say goodbye to him. The promise had felt broken, after he’d cheated and Kurt had ended things, but Blaine realizes now that it never really was. In the grand scheme of things, Kurt’s promise still holds true, and he’s giving Blaine reason to believe in it by being here.

Aching and aroused, Blaine reaches down to remove Kurt’s hand and pulls Kurt flush against him. Blaine anchors his hands back in Kurt’s hair and pulls him back in for a kiss, tugging _hard_ on Kurt’s hair. Kurt groans into his mouth, cock slipping between Blaine’s legs and rutting uselessly along the outer folds of his labia. The friction feels good but it’s not enough, not in this position. But Blaine knows that trying to have sex against the shower wall is both logistically difficult and risky, so he has to settle for grinding awkwardly against Kurt’s length, whimpering into Kurt’s mouth.

Kurt breaks the kiss, breathing hard as he rests his forehead against Blaine’s. He looks so _beautiful_ like this, hair askew and cheeks flushed, water pearling and running along his skin. He takes a minute to catch his breath before he pulls back a little, hand squeezing at the base of his cock. The head of his cock catches and drags against Blaine’s swollen and stiff clit, and Blaine gasps, hips bucking up toward Kurt in answer. He drops one of his hands down and gropes desperately for Kurt’s ass, pulling Kurt back in. “ _Need you_ ,” Blaine breathes, his whole body thrumming in time with his heartbeat.

Kurt takes a very deliberate beat to flick his eyes up to meet Blaine’s, and it’s with all the tenderness in the world that he cups Blaine’s face in his hands and gives Blaine a soft kiss. “I’m here,” Kurt murmurs, still, now, always a promise. And this -- _this_ is how it should have been years ago, if things had gone according to plan. Kurt would’ve been waiting for him here, if they hadn’t broken up. But that’s the thing -- _nothing_ had gone according to plan, and even if they hadn’t broken up, Joy might still be here. She might be a little different, but she’d still be here, and they might’ve been a family long before now. But Blaine doesn’t have any regrets, not when he’s learned so much, not when he’s grown so much. He has Joy, and Kurt is here, now, and this is what he’s wanted, how it should feel.

_This_ is coming home, but it’s Kurt who’s come back to him -- to them -- in the end.

Kurt tangles their fingers together and skims his other hand down along Blaine’s side, fingers dancing along the lines of Blaine’s stretch marks. Blaine’s eyes follow the path of Kurt’s hand as it moves, and it’s only then that Blaine realizes how _lost_ he’s gotten in Kurt. Blaine’s gotten caught in the spray of the shower anyway, skin wet and glistening, but his hair’s still mostly in place, though he can feel it starting to curl a little bit at the nape of his neck. And here in the spray of the shower, with Kurt’s hands on his skin, fingers woven together, Blaine remembers what Kurt had impressed upon him on his birthday a couple of months ago. They can’t have a clean slate, not with their history, but they can have a fresh start.

This -- today, tonight -- is their fresh start.

Kurt’s hand falls down a little more, squeezing at Blaine’s hip briefly (and _god_ that feels good) before moving around to grope at Blaine’s ass. “Bend over?” Kurt requests, voice breathless and a little strangled. “I think this might be easier if you --”

“Yeah,” Blaine gasps in agreement, pushing himself off of the wall and moving under the spray of the shower. It’s not ideal, not if he wants to stay close, not if he wants their lips to stay fused together, but it’s a good alternative to trying to fuck against the wall. So he bends over in the direction of the showerhead, the harsh, heavy weight of the water on his lower back feeling like _heaven_. He feels all of the muscles in the body start to relax and unwind as he sets his feet far enough apart to grant Kurt easy access without having to worry about falling. He feels the blunt pressure of the head of Kurt’s cock pressing against his opening and groans, pressing his palm flat against the wall in front of him for purchase. Lined up, Kurt curls his hands around Blaine’s hips to help keep him in place and upright and slides his cock the rest of the way inside Blaine’s pussy. Blaine drops his chin to his chest and exhales slowly, toes curling at how good it feels to be stretched out around Kurt’s cock.

There’s something different about being fucked from behind -- for Blaine, at least. He loves the way it makes him feel broken open, like his skin is cracking from the inside out in regeneration. He loves the way Kurt’s cock presses in, fast and hard and deep, loves the perpetual forward motion. He loves the way Kurt’s hands curl around his hips, keeping them together, anchoring him in place. It keeps them in the here and now, and as the water beats down on their skin, Blaine takes the time to enjoy the present.

Kurt’s half-gasped and soft moans build into a quiet, echoing orchestra in the confined space of the shower. Blaine exhales sharply through each one, breathing growing shallow as the head of Kurt’s cock brushes erratically against Blaine’s g-spot. It feels so _good_ , but it’s not enough, not on its own, so Blaine moves his free hand down to rub his fingers in circles over his clit. “God, I’ve missed you,” Kurt chokes out, working his hips hard and fast enough that his balls start to slap against Blaine’s skin. “I -- I _want_ to last, baby, I really do, but I -- _hng_ \-- I don’t think I _can_ ,” Kurt gasps, driving his cock in _hard_.

Blaine only just barely bites back a moan, squeezing his eyes shut in a moment of brief deliberation before dropping his fingers from his clit. It’s not like he’s not used to this -- prioritizing one of their orgasms before the other -- but god, it would be so _nice_ to be able to come with Kurt right now. It’s been five weeks and they’re both beyond worked up, but for all of the benefits this position affords, it also has some downsides. The water is starting to travel up Blaine’s back and neck and into his hair, his muscles are starting to strain, and he can’t quite get the right angle or pressure on his clit like this. But Blaine can’t find himself to be all that bothered by any of it, not when they’re this close, not when Kurt’s _here_. It’s a fresh start, not a clean slate, and Blaine is used to one of them waiting. He’s willing to put Kurt first, right now.

He starts when Kurt drapes himself along Blaine’s back, hips grinding gently against Blaine’s ass. “You okay?” Kurt murmurs, lips dragging and catching against the skin of Blaine’s back, leaving a trail of wet kisses in their wake.

Blaine’s jaw drops open, free hand immediately reaching down to tangle his fingers with Kurt’s on his hip. “Uh-huh,” he breathes, pushing back onto Kurt’s cock to prompt him into a less agonizingly teasing and more frenzied movement. “Just -- _harder_ ,” he groans, rocking up on the balls of his feet for a second in an attempt to get Kurt’s cock to brush against his g-spot again. He’s _fine_ with waiting, just as long as Kurt keeps moving, as long as his hips pick up speed and Blaine’s pussy gets to feel the stretch and pressure and friction of Kurt fucking himself to orgasm.

“Want to feel you come,” Kurt insists, still keeping his maddeningly steady pace. He untangles his fingers from Blaine and awkwardly reaches around and down between Blaine’s legs, fingers fumbling to try and rub against Blaine’s clit. Kurt’s attempts are even less effective than Blaine’s had been, but it’s almost worse because it limits Kurt’s ability to thrust and their knees are knocking awkwardly against each other and --

“Stop,” Blaine gasps, tearing Kurt’s hand away and pushing back with his ass to get them back into a better position. “It’s -- it’s okay, don’t worry about me. I’m not -- I can’t get enough pressure on my clit like this. Just -- keep moving, _please_.” He feels Kurt straighten up behind him, and for a second, Blaine’s entire body relaxes in relief, but then Kurt’s _pulling out_ , and no, no, no, that’s not what Blaine wanted at all. “Kurt,” he whines, “that’s like, the opposite of what I just asked you to do.”

“C’mere,” Kurt beckons with a murmur, anchoring a hand against the softness of Blaine’s belly to pull him upright. Blaine sighs but straightens up all the way and relaxes his back against Kurt’s chest, weaving his fingers with Kurt’s again. The spray of water hits just below Blaine’s shoulder, ricocheting off onto their necks before cascading down their bodies to the shower floor. Kurt uses his other hand to tilt Blaine’s face to his, and Blaine’s eyes barely have the chance to open before they flutter shut again at the press of Kurt’s lips to his own. He turns around in Kurt’s embrace, fingers brushing against Kurt’s collarbone before wrapping his arms around Kurt’s neck. Kurt’s hands fall to the small of Blaine’s back, touch strong and sure and yet still exceedingly gentle. Blaine swallows thickly when they pull apart, eyes heavy and lidded. “I know you,” Kurt reminds him, nudging Blaine’s nose with his own. “I know you tend to take care of and put other people first, Blaine, and I get it -- I really, really do. I’ve been doing it since I was eight.” Kurt pauses, and it’s his turn to swallow thickly, now, as his fingers trace back over the scars of Blaine’s stretch marks. “Let me take care of you now.”

This -- _this_ is what Blaine has wanted for so long. His parents have been _wonderful_ in their support of him and Joy ever since Blaine had first discovered that he was pregnant. But Blaine hasn’t had anyone to take care of him like this since he’d pushed Kurt to move to New York. It’s not about the physical, although that’s certainly part of it. His parents understand him on a basic level and support him and his goals, and Blaine knows that they love him, but Kurt is -- has always been -- different. Kurt really _gets_ him, sees through all of the walls and layers Blaine puts up, goes beyond just support and really _celebrates_ everything about him. And Kurt is here, now, promising to stay, promising to take care of Blaine -- and Joy. And while it’s nice to be taken care of -- to take the time for himself and be a little selfish and let himself be cared for by Kurt this way -- it’s also nice to see Kurt so willingly settling into preparation for being a parent.

Blaine might have a little thing for _Kurt_ being a dad, too.

Blaine bites back a smile, moving one of his hands down to stroke Kurt’s cock once before he darts in for another kiss. “I guess we’re moving this to the bedroom, then,” he says. He turns around quickly, ignoring the way Kurt’s eyes spark with renewed heat at the teasing, and reaches for the handle to turn the water off.

Kurt catches him before he can turn it off, though, arm hooking around Blaine’s middle and tugging Blaine’s back against his chest again. Blaine’s breath hitches at how _strong_ Kurt’s hold is, and it’s with lips pressed right up against Blaine’s ear that Kurt whispers, “Don’t turn it off.”

“What --” But Blaine’s protest dies in his throat as Kurt guides him back into being bent over, and they’re both quiet for a moment as Kurt presses close to him, reaching for something above Blaine’s head. He’s not quite sure what Kurt’s plan is, considering that they’ve already established that it’s difficult for Blaine to come in this particular situation. But Kurt’s back into position fairly quickly, draping himself across Blaine’s back and -- “ _Oh_!” Blaine gasps, knees buckling a little as the spray of water from the showerhead hits his clit. He smacks his palm back against the wall of the shower for purchase, every limb suddenly trembling from the pressure on his clit.

“Better?” Kurt asks, reaching for Blaine’s hand and guiding it to where he’s holding onto the detachable showerhead. “You want to take over from here?” Kurt prompts suggestively, clearly pleased with himself.

Quickly, Blaine takes the showerhead from him and shifts the spray away from his clit temporarily, trying to regain his bearings. “Yeah,” he laughs breathlessly. “This… works for me,” he says, breath catching when Kurt presses head of his cock back inside of Blaine’s pussy again.

“Yeah?” Kurt breathes, pushing his cock the rest of the way in with shallow, staccato thrusts. His hands curl back around Blaine’s hips to hold them both in place, his grip harder than before. It hurts, a little, given how sore and aching Blaine’s hips have been lately, but it hurts in a _good_ way, heightening his senses and helping to amplify the jolts of pleasure he feels when Kurt’s cock brushes against his g-spot again.

“Yeah,” Blaine says, voice faint and airy. He adjusts the showerhead in his hand and angles it back over his clit, rotating it in small circles to help build to his orgasm. “ _Yeah_ ,” he groans, dropping his chin back down to his chest. His pussy _aches_ as Kurt takes the cue and picks up the pace again, and regardless of the water temperature, Blaine’s chest feels tight as he struggles to breathe through the building, throbbing pressure on his clit. “ _Kurt_ ,” he whimpers, limbs shaking violently as his hand stops and focuses the incredible power of the water pressure on one part of his clit. He knows he’s close, can tell from the way his pussy starts to tighten around Kurt’s cock, the way his chest starts to heave as he gasps for air.

It’s so _fast_ , considering how much he was struggling before, considering the fact that they stopped for a brief moment. Blaine has spent so long putting other people first that it’s still difficult for him to know exactly how to put himself first. He’s been _trying_ , in balance, to take care of himself, particularly since Valentine’s Day. There are times when it’s almost like he’s forgotten how, but Kurt -- Kurt is here, and Kurt remembers. Even though they’re different people now, they are still also very much the same, at their core. They’d spent most of March rediscovering each others’ bodies, remapping old territory and charting new territory. But this -- this is Kurt knowing Blaine’s body just as well as Blaine does, if not a little better. This is Kurt _knowing_ him, this is Kurt putting him first and taking care of him.

This is Blaine in every inch of his skin, and Kurt makes it come alive.

A sharp, high, gulping gasp crashes in and out of Blaine’s lungs like a twenty-five foot wave, forcing him to rock onto the balls of his feet as his whole body tenses with his orgasm. He’s vaguely aware of Kurt fucking him through it despite the tight clench of his pussy around Kurt’s cock, but he’s too focused on the overwhelming pressure on his clit to think about anything beyond it. He can feel his muscles relax and loosen as he comes down, hand dropping the showerhead when the pressure is over-stimulating for his clit. He hasn’t come this hard in _ages_ , and by the time his orgasm starts to taper off, he is absolutely done for, knees buckling and desperate to sink to the floor. But Kurt’s grip is strong, holding Blaine up and keeping him close as Kurt works his hips into a frenzy. It’s barely half a moment before Kurt stills and spills into him, Blaine’s name falling breathlessly from his lips.

It’s only when Kurt’s grip starts to relax that Blaine starts to fall apart, his whole body trembling in aftershock. His hand finally slips from the wall in front of him as the spray of water from the showerhead hits his feet and starts to circle the drain. Kurt pulls out, and it takes everything in Blaine not to give into the desire to just curl up on the shower floor and pull himself together. But Kurt _knows_ Blaine, and he pulls Blaine upright again and turns him around so they’re facing each other again before Blaine even has the opportunity to fall. Blaine drops his head to Kurt’s shoulder, still trembling, but with Kurt’s arms back around him, Blaine feels safe enough to fall.

That’s the thing, though -- Blaine has already fallen. He fell a long time ago and never got up, but he’s _still_ falling. And whenever Blaine falls, Kurt is always there to catch him.

Kurt presses a kiss to Blaine’s cheek, fingers flexing against Blaine’s back. “My fingers are all pruney,” he chuckles. “We should probably turn the water off.”

The sticky slide of Kurt’s come on the inside of Blaine’s thighs demands otherwise, but Blaine can’t bring himself to move beyond nuzzling his face against Kurt’s neck. “M’kay,” he mumbles around a sigh, trembling finally subsiding.

He can feel Kurt smile against his temple. “I can’t really do it if you don’t move, honey.” Blaine whines, angling his face a little so Kurt can see his pout. “You totally look like the parent of a three-year-old,” Kurt murmurs, leaning in and capturing Blaine’s lips in a sweet kiss. Blaine sighs into Kurt’s mouth, reluctantly following Kurt’s pull after they break apart. He tries to straighten up and get his legs to work properly, but he’s distracted by the laugh that bursts out of Kurt. “Your hair’s a disaster,” Kurt explains, grin lighting up his face.

“I _told you_ ,” Blaine complains, resisting the urge to try and fix his hair. He’s not sure he even has the energy to lift his arms right now, anyway. But Kurt’s smile is infectious, and Blaine can’t help but smile as he leans back in, resting his forehead against Kurt’s chest. “I know, I know -- I’m a mess.”

“A beautiful mess,” Kurt corrects, pushing Blaine back a little in order to cup Blaine’s cheek in his hand. “ _My_ mess,” he adds, voice soft and eyes warm.

Blaine feels his smile soften. “You know,” he muses, taking Kurt’s hand from his face and tangling their fingers together, “the only thing that could’ve made that more romantic was if you’d tried to make me feel better by saying you’re a mess, too.”

“I’m not a mess,” Kurt protests.

“Oh really?” Blaine drawls.

“No, of course not,” Kurt laughs.

Blaine runs his fingers through Kurt’s hair, taking in Kurt’s flushed cheeks and tired eyes. “You sure _look_ like a mess,” he teases.

Kurt’s fingers dig in a little harder at Blaine’s back. “If I look like a mess, it’s only because I didn’t sleep enough last night and spent the day chasing a three-year-old around and I’ve been in the shower too long and I haven’t even _moisturized_ yet, Blaine.”

Blaine arches his eyebrows and offers Kurt a hopeful smile. “Welcome to parenthood?” Kurt bites back a smile and ducks his head, looking every bit the seventeen-year-old Blaine fell in love with. “How about this?” Blaine suggests, prompting Kurt to look back up at him. “You get out and get dressed and go get me some pajamas, I stay here and shampoo my hair so it’s not a total disaster in the morning, and then we can… get back into our bedtime skincare routine?” he finishes, the last words tumbling out of him like air. It’s strange, that something as simple as settling back into a silly routine makes Blaine’s heart beat erratically and his stomach twist in knots, especially considering that they just had sex for the first time in five weeks. But there are more ways to be intimate other than sex, Blaine reminds himself, and fitting Kurt back into their lives is like fitting a piece back into a puzzle or turning a new page. Again, Blaine thinks about the photographs on his camera, how they’ll be used to start a new book, a new chapter. Feeling content, satisfaction seeping into his bones, Blaine reaches up to brush some hair off of Kurt’s forehead and smiles. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt hums agreeably, but he doesn’t remove his hand from Blaine’s back, doesn’t reach out to put the showerhead back in place, doesn’t really move at all.

“We can’t really do any of that if you don’t move, honey,” Blaine laughs, echoing Kurt’s earlier teasing.

“Okay, okay,” Kurt sighs, darting in to kiss Blaine quickly before finally releasing him and moving toward the edge of the shower curtain. It’s only now, with Kurt’s hands off of him, that Blaine feels the fatigue in his muscles again, but he’s not worried about falling. His aching muscles are almost immediately forgotten again, anyway, after Kurt climbs out of the shower and casts him a flirtatious smile before snapping the curtain shut again.

Blaine takes a second to think about what’s on the other side of the curtain. He knows there’s a fresh towel for Kurt to use, knows that Kurt will take Blaine’s bathrobe off of the hook on the back door and wrap himself up in it before leaving temporarily to get pajamas. The thought makes Blaine feel comfortable in his own skin again, more sure of Kurt’s intentions and promises.

With an absent smile, Blaine picks the showerhead up off of the floor and puts it back in place. And behind the curtain with the water washing him clean, Blaine feels ready for a fresh start.

* * * * *

On Sunday morning, it’s Kurt who wakes Blaine up with a coffee-flavored kiss. Blaine inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. He gets a brief, blurry view of Kurt’s warm grin before Kurt leans in to kiss him again. This time, Blaine’s awake enough to really get the taste that Kurt leaves on Blaine’s lips, and he finds his lips twisting a little in displeasure. “Sorry,” Kurt murmurs, pulling back to give Blaine a little room to breathe. “I know I take my coffee differently than you do. I poured you your own cup, though,” he says, reaching for one of two mugs on the nightstand.

“‘s okay,” Blaine mumbles sleepily, rubbing tiredly at his eyes before he looks at the alarm clock. Six-thirty is better than four, he supposes, and he takes a second to enjoy the softness of the mattress and his pillow. He’s somehow _more_ tired this morning than he has been recently, and he winces as a sharp pain shoots through his hips as he pushes himself into a sitting position. His back is aching again, worse than even before their shower last night, and he snatches another pillow to tuck behind him before he settles against the pillows and accepts the proffered coffee. He takes a second to let the mug warm his fingers and smiles at Kurt sitting next to him. “You’re up early.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and reaches for the second mug. “I woke up a half hour ago and couldn’t go back to sleep. My sleep schedule’s a little… all over the place right now.” He closes his eyes and smells his coffee, mouth relaxing into a smile. “As long as I have my coffee, I’ll be fine.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Blaine sighs, rolling his shoulders back uncomfortably. He reaches for Kurt’s free hand with his own and weaves their fingers together, prompting Kurt to open his eyes. “It’s… really nice to wake up with you again,” Blaine admits, quiet and content.

Kurt’s smile breaks open. “Among other things,” he says, a hint of teasing in his voice. Blaine lifts his mug to take a sip, grinning into it as the rim touches his lips. The liquid barely touches his tongue, though, before he’s pulling the mug away from his mouth and grimacing. “I know I didn’t make that wrong,” Kurt laughs. “All I did was pour the coffee into the mug. It’s the exact same coffee you had three cups of yesterday.”

“Yeah, no, I know,” Blaine answers distractedly, setting the mug on the nightstand. “It’s just… making my stomach a little queasy, that’s all.”

Kurt’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “You normally get through your first cup just fine,” he observes, and Blaine would smile at how well Kurt knows him if his stomach wasn’t starting to turn over. “But maybe you should get some food in your stomach?” Kurt suggests.

Blaine shakes his head, inhaling sharply when he feels his chest get a little tight. “I, um, I don’t think I can handle food right now, honestly. Do you -- can you get me a glass of water?” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest in an attempt to keep the nausea at bay.

“Sure,” Kurt agrees amicably, setting his mug back on the nightstand. “I can see if there’s anything else in the kitchen that might settle your stomach, too.”

“Thanks,” Blaine mutters, eyes slipping shut when Kurt presses a quick kiss to his forehead before leaving the room. He can feel his hand starting to tremble on his chest, feels his breathing start to grow more shallow and rapid under his touch. He’s suddenly _freezing_ \-- whole body shivering and breaking out into a cold sweat. The smell of the coffee drifts over from the nightstand, causing him to gag a little. He clamps his lips shut, willing the hot, thick ball of lead rising in his stomach to calm. He tries holding his breath in hopes that it’ll help -- maybe it’ll calm his breathing, maybe if he doesn’t smell the coffee, the nausea will go away --

But Blaine feels bile at the base of his throat when he gasps out his exhale, and he barely has the chance to kick the covers off and swing his legs over the edge of the bed before his stomach lurches again. He swallows to steady himself before he pushes himself to his feet, but that just makes it worse -- he’s _going_ to vomit, it’s unavoidable now. His vision blurs and swims as he makes his way down the hall into the bathroom.

He sinks as slowly as he can to his knees in front of the toilet and lifts the lid, hands shaking as he grips the edges of the bowl. He barely gets a half-second to catch his breath before he’s retching into it, body convulsing _violently_ with the force of it. He can’t help the tears that splash onto his cheeks, the taste of bile repugnant on his tongue. He gasps around a whimper, hardly able to get air back into his lungs before his chest heaves and he vomits into the toilet again. He pants heavily once he’s done, his body aching all over, and he doesn’t bother trying to wipe off his face. His stomach, at least, feels empty and achingly hollow, and he takes the reprieve gratefully, tucking his face against his arm to collect himself. The tremors start to subside as he slowly gets air back into his lungs, but his head is throbbing, his mouth dry.

“Hey,” Kurt’s voice prompts gently. “You okay?”

“No,” Blaine groans, voice barely there. “Just threw up.”

Kurt gently taps Blaine’s shoulder, but Blaine only has the energy to shift his head on his arm so he can glance over at him. Kurt has the glass of water that Blaine requested, and Blaine’s tongue feels tacky in his mouth at the sight of it. Slowly, he lifts his head and closes the toilet lid, exceedingly grateful when Kurt scoots in closer and helps tip the glass against Blaine’s lips, water cool as it cascades over his tongue and down his throat. It doesn’t totally get rid of the lingering taste of bile on his tongue, but it at least washes some of it away and gets some fluid back into his body. He pushes the glass away when he’s done and rests his head back on his arm for a minute, shivering as he watches Kurt set the glass on the counter and flush the toilet for him. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” Kurt asks, hand rubbing comfortingly at Blaine’s knee.

Blaine nods, trying not to move too much for a minute. “Can you take the coffee out of the bedroom?” he murmurs. “Don’t wanna get sick again.” Kurt nods and squeezes Blaine’s knee briefly before pushing himself to his feet again. Blaine takes another minute to make sure his stomach has calmed before he moves to get up. He goes about it slowly, limbs and muscles feeling like dead weight, but it’s worse when he’s actually rising, his hips screaming in protest. He grimaces through it, sluggishly moving in front of the sink to rinse his mouth out and splash water onto his face. He feels marginally better as he towels off his face, but the second he straightens up, pain spikes out from his spine in fractals. He grips the edge of the counter and hunches over a little, whimpering.

“Sick again?” Kurt asks, rejoining him.

Blaine shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds. “My back is _killing_ me,” he grits out. “It’s been bothering me for a while, but this is the worst it’s been.”

“Come back to bed,” Kurt beckons, reaching for one of Blaine’s hands. “I can give you a massage.”

Blaine’s hand relaxes against the counter. “That sounds _wonderful_ ,” he breathes, allowing Kurt to tug him down the hall back into the bedroom.

All Blaine wants to do is flop down on the mattress spread-eagle and not move again for another hour or so, but Kurt tightens his grip on Blaine’s hand to keep him standing. “Hang on,” Kurt instructs, nodding at Blaine’s pajamas. “Take your clothes off.”

“Oh, Kurt, I don’t really have the energy to --”

“I’m not trying to get into your pants,” Kurt laughs. “Even I’m not awake enough to have sex right now, especially after last night. Just -- down to your underwear, it’ll make this easier for me.” Unwilling to argue or tease, Blaine does as requested and strips down to his boxer briefs, leaving his clothes in a pool on the floor. He crawls onto the bed with care, trying not to aggravate his back or unsettle his stomach again, and he sort of just… crumbles into his desired spread eagle position. He feels the mattress sink with more weight as Kurt crawls onto the bed behind him. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Everywhere,” Blaine huffs out, cheeks smushed against a pillow. “But maybe -- start in the center, at my spine? Work your way out from there? And it’s -- my lower back is a lot worse.” Kurt merely _hmms_ in acknowledgement before setting to work, hands warm and firm along Blaine’s spine. Kurt starts at the top, working his way out over Blaine’s scapulas. It’s a nice start, enough to give Blaine temporary relief, and he lets out a slow exhale and tries to relax his muscles. But the tension doesn’t really start to melt away until Kurt’s hands move past the dip to Blaine’s lower back, and Blaine can’t help but let out a soft moan as Kurt works his fingers and palms over the painful fractals. “That feels so good,” he breathes, toes curling.

“Yeah?” Kurt murmurs, dropping a quick kiss to Blaine’s back before resuming his work. “I could tell your back was bothering you yesterday at the zoo.”

“Mhm,” Blaine hums, corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile at Kurt’s observance. “But this feels -- _oh_ \-- really good,” he gasps. “Can you -- a little lower?” Kurt obliges, hands moving to the skin just above Blaine’s waistband, but it’s not enough, not what Blaine needs. “Lower,” Blaine guides around a groan.

“Any lower and I’ll be touching your ass,” Kurt quips, but he tugs Blaine’s underwear down just enough to expose Blaine’s tailbone.

Blaine flaps his hand uselessly against the pillow, too tired to banter. “Out more,” he requests. “A little more --”

“Your hips?” Kurt guesses, hands moving a little awkwardly as he tries to fulfill Blaine’s wishes. “That’s a weird place to want a massage.”

“I know, but they’ve been bothering me almost as much as my back,” Blaine explains.

“Just yesterday?” Kurt inquires, shifting a little on the bed to get a better angle. “Joy was a little… rambunctious yesterday. You picked her up a lot.”

“No, yesterday just made it worse,” Blaine clarifies. “It’s not the first time they’ve felt like this, but it’s been _ages_. My hips haven’t hurt like this since --” It hits him in brief, blurry bullets, memories piecing themselves together. He remembers the last time he’d felt like this, years ago, remembers lumping them in the growing pains category while his body adjusted and grew over the course of several months, remembers the stretch marks and the way his belly had expanded and _oh_. He lifts his head off of the pillow, breath caught in his chest, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. “Since I was --” He stops, moistens his lips, can barely force the words out his mouth. “Since I was pregnant with Joy.”

Kurt’s hands still on Blaine’s skin, and he’s quiet for a long moment before speaking. “What,” he says slowly, “you think that --”

“The last time my body felt like this was when I was pregnant with Joy,” Blaine says again, the repetition making it sink in a little more. Kurt’s hands leave his skin as Kurt crawls up the bed to lean against the headboard, eyes surveying Blaine a little curiously. “I just threw up because of a sudden aversion to _coffee_ , I --” He rolls onto his side and runs a hand through his unkempt hair. It’s starting to hit him a little harder, now, the possibility seeping into his pores. He remembers their reunion on the floor at the foot of the bed, remembers the rushed encounters in the afternoons and the slow, sensual overnights. And he remembers _last_ night, remembers Kurt’s hands on his hips and the sticky slide of Kurt’s come dripping down between his legs, _fuck_. “We haven’t been using protection,” he breathes, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. He pauses, takes a beat to look Kurt in the eye, feels his heart stop in his chest. “We haven’t used condoms at all since we’ve been back together.”

Kurt shifts, looking a little uncomfortable, but his expression is otherwise still reserved, contemplating. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” he argues. “We weren’t exactly religious about using them back in high school -- strict, maybe, but not religous.”

“Yeah, but I was on birth control back then,” Blaine counters, waving a hand dismissively. He stops, though, once he realizes that this is something they haven’t actually _talked about_ since they’ve gotten back together, since they started having sex again. They’d fell back into having sex (literally) and had just kind of… kept going. Really, their whole reunion has been like that, fast and passionate. They’ve been so _thoughtless_ about this, and Blaine is reminded of his father’s keen observation -- they get so _lost_ in each other, in the way they feel, and only now does Blaine realize that it means they have blind spots. Blaine swallows his guilt, trying to ignore the way it burns on the way down. “I’m… not on birth control.”

Kurt blinks in surprise, looking suddenly nervous. “You’re not?”

“No,” Blaine admits, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He crosses his legs, suddenly hyper-aware of just how naked and bare he is and it makes him feel vulnerable. He drops his gaze and reaches out to toy with one of the pillowcases, material feeling smooth between his fingers. “I stopped taking it when I found out I was pregnant with Joy. After she was born, I -- I had a baby and I was going to school and I still had feelings for you. I just -- I didn’t really see a point in taking it again,” he explains, breathing growing a little shallow. “I know I _should have_ , after we got back together, especially after we started having sex again. I wasn’t thinking, I --”

“Okay, okay, hey,” Kurt interjects, taking Blaine’s hand in his own. “Just _breathe_ , okay? Look, I… am just as responsible -- or I guess irresponsible -- as you here, okay? We’ve been… reckless,” he admits, and the words hang in the air between them, guilty and accusatory. “But let’s just… try not to panic yet, okay? We don’t know anything for sure yet.”

“No,” Blaine agrees, “we don’t.”

Again, Kurt shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t let go of Blaine’s hand. “Do you want --” Kurt stops, starts again, and Blaine knows that the words are just as hard for Kurt to get out as they had been for him. “Do you want me to go pick up a pregnancy test?” Kurt offers awkwardly.

Blaine’s eyes slips shut, and he swallows the lump in his throat. “That’s… probably a good idea,” he says by way of assent. He doesn’t notice that his hands are trembling again until Kurt squeezes his hand a little tighter. Blaine exhales slowly and opens his eyes, not quite meeting Kurt’s eyes. “You should probably go,” he says quietly, “before Joy wakes up.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, just as quiet. Slowly, he pulls his hand from Blaine’s and makes to get off of the bed. “Just, um, give me a few minutes to get dressed?” he asks, running a hand through his hair and glancing around the room for a minute before moving to the closet. “That drugstore on the corner’s twenty-four hours, right?”

“Yeah,” Blaine answers distractedly, leaning against the headboard and tucking his knees up against his chest. “Can you -- my pajamas are still on the floor, can you hand them to me?”

Kurt tugs a shirt the rest of the way on and Blaine can feel Kurt’s eyes on him, but still, he doesn’t look up. He knows that Kurt is just as uncomfortable with the prospect they’re facing, but this is just… different. Blaine’s previous experience wasn’t like this at all, and Kurt had been absent, back then. It’s just -- Blaine can barely wrap his head around it. He doesn’t want to see the look in Kurt’s eyes, doesn’t want to be pitied or made to feel abnormal and fragile. Which is -- that’s _stupid_ , because Kurt has never made him feel that way. But Blaine’s whole world feels off-kilter in comparison to last night, and he really has no idea what to expect right now. Kurt does as he’s asked and sets Blaine’s pajamas on the bed, but he also rests a hand atop one of Blaine’s knees and leans down to press a kiss to Blaine’s forehead, lips lingering. “I’ll be right back,” he promises.

Blaine’s eyes slip shut again, and he holds his breath until he hears the front door click open and shut. He buries his head in his arm and exhales slowly, hand fisting in the pile of clothes next to him. Reckless. They’ve been _reckless_ and Blaine hates it, hates the way it makes him feel. It’s not just that he’s sick and sore and exhausted. It’s that they -- he was thoughtless and irresponsible, and that’s a luxury Blaine hasn’t been able to afford since Joy was born. He knew, when he decided to keep her and raise her, that he had to grow up, that he had to be responsible and selfless and an _adult_. Their current predicament makes Blaine feel like he’s _failed_ at all of that, like he’s stopped putting Joy first. And it’s not -- he understands that it’s okay to take care of himself and to be in love with Kurt, but there is more to him than that. Joy is a part of him, and he is her father -- first, last, always. This -- the possibility that he might be pregnant -- makes him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. It makes him feel like he’s forgotten that he’s a father, honestly, as weirdly ironic and backward as that is.

He feels adrift, in need of an anchor. Slowly, he relaxes his grip on his clothes and lifts his head, trying to breathe evenly. His eyes drift over to the framed photograph on the nightstand, heart aching with affection at the sight of a capture of him with Joy last year. He reaches out for it, thumb running over the glass. He needs _her_ , needs the feeling she’d given him when he first held her. He needs to feel back in every inch of his skin, needs to feel hope, needs to believe that he’s capable of anything. After spending months feeling like he was a failure, Joy had been the proof that he wasn’t. Raising her has been one of the best decisions he’s made -- _she_ is the product of one of the best decisions he’s made, the decision to love someone, to love Kurt.

Joy was an accident in the midst of disarray. She brought balance when Blaine’s world had felt off-kilter. She was a _happy_ accident. Blaine doesn’t know why _this_ feels so different. He knows, logically, that the circumstances are different. They’re older, they’re together, they already have a child together. He might not -- there might not be anything to even worry about, but he can’t help it. He knows how much a baby changes things, they’ve only just _started_ finding their footing again, and he can’t even imagine what their lives would be like if he’s actually --

If he’s actually pregnant, Blaine has no idea what he’s going to do.

But he won’t know the answer to that question until Kurt comes back, so Blaine sets the frame back on the nightstand and tugs his clothes back on, searching for something to keep him preoccupied. There’s still a faint, bitter taste of bile on his tongue, so Blaine shuffles back into the bathroom and tries to keep quiet, not wanting to wake Joy. It’s just after seven, now, which is normal wake-up time for her on weekdays, but with what they’re dealing with right now, Blaine hopes she sleeps just a little bit longer. He’s already failing pretty miserably at wrapping his head around this and he hasn’t even taken the test yet. If Joy wakes up in the middle of all of this, Blaine’s brain will probably shut down.

For now, Blaine focuses on vigorously brushing his teeth, taking particular care to scrub his tongue clean and get rid of the bad taste in his mouth. After he’s rinsed and dried off his mouth, he takes second notice of the glass of water Kurt had brought for him and drains it, setting it back on the counter with a slightly too-loud _clunk_. He tenses for a moment, ears straining as he waits for sound from Joy’s room, but nothing comes. He’s not alone, but he _feels_ like he is. Kurt may be having his own personal freak-out while they’re apart right now, but it’s impossible for him to understand how Blaine feels right now. _Blaine_ isn’t even sure he understands how he feels right now. He grips the edge of the counter and looks down and away from his own reflection, exhaling slowly to try and gather himself.

He’s not even aware that Kurt’s back until Kurt’s voice is right next to him. “Hey,” Kurt greets, quiet and hesitant. Blaine forces himself to look up and over at him. “This, um, this was the only brand they had, for men,” Kurt explains, shaking the box in his hand. “I hope this is okay.”

Blaine swallows thickly at the sight of it, but the not knowing is setting his nerves on edge more than anything else, so he reaches out for the box, desperate to get this over with. “It’s fine,” he says, not really caring. He struggles to open the box, hating how his hands have started shaking again.

“Do you… want some privacy?” Kurt ventures, lingering in the doorway.

Blaine shrugs, finally getting the box open and pulling out the contents inside. “It doesn’t really matter.”

Kurt shifts his weight from one leg to the other, obviously feeling awkward and uncomfortable. “I mean, I get that we’re comfortable with a lot of personal things around each other, but some people are uncomfortable with bodily --”

“Kurt,” Blaine snaps, unable to keep himself from sounding irritated as he stands in front of the toilet, test in hand. “I’ve spent the last three years raising Joy. I have dealt with cereal on the floor, snot, spit-up, vomit, drool, sticky fingers, dirty diapers, and potty training. You tend to lose your senses of shame and privacy after all of that. And in case you’ve forgotten, you fucked me in this shower last night, so no, I really don’t mind if you stay.”

Something flickers in Kurt’s eyes, but he only hesitates for half a moment before he’s crossing the threshold and leaning against the back of the door to click it shut. Agitated and beyond nervous, Blaine very deliberately focuses on the task at hand, making quick work of his pants and the test. Kurt doesn’t move or speak at all during, but his eyes follow the test to where Blaine sets it on the counter when he’s finished. They’re both quiet as Blaine cleans himself up and washes his still shaking hands in the sink, save for Kurt’s sharp inhale. Blaine knows him well enough to know that Kurt probably wants to reach for Blaine’s hands to still the shaking and soothe him. Kurt doesn’t, but the fact that Blaine knows him well enough to know that Kurt _wants to_ actually makes Blaine feel a little better. This is still Kurt -- Blaine’s Kurt -- and even though Blaine may not be sure of what either of them are thinking or feeling right now, he knows that this is still an opportunity to do what they’d restarted last night -- to relearn and rebuild. “How -- how long will it take?” Kurt asks.

“Just a few minutes, I think,” Blaine answers, distracted. Wanting to get away from the mirror, Blaine crosses back to the other side of the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the tub, head hung and hands twisting inside of one another. The tile feels cold beneath his feet; he dances his toes onto the bathmat and digs them into the material for comfort.

“Is it, um, is it just the waiting that’s making you so upset?” Kurt pries, still sounding hesitant, unsure.

“Well, I’m not crazy about it,” Blaine says dryly, “but, uh, no, that’s not really what’s got me so on edge.”

“Is this what it felt like?” Kurt asks quietly. “Before?”

It’s a question Blaine’s not sure how to answer, at first. Things are tense and a little awkward between them, obviously, but Blaine doesn’t have a handle on anything else either of them might be feeling. He’s not quite sure what ‘this’ means to Kurt, whether Kurt is referring to Blaine’s feelings or his own, what Kurt perceives Blaine’s feelings to be. Regardless, Blaine can come up with an answer based on the nervous anticipation. “Uh, no,” he answers, clearing his throat. “No, it’s -- it wasn’t like this. The aches and the growing pains -- all of that didn’t start until further along in my pregnancy with Joy. I didn’t have any morning sickness. I didn’t have any suspicions. I had bloodwork done during a routine exam a couple of weeks after we broke up. My physician followed up with an ultrasound. I didn’t know I was pregnant with Joy until I was staring at her in black and white.”

“So it’s the not knowing?” Kurt guesses.

“It’s partially that, too,” Blaine sighs, getting frustrated and running a hand through his hair again. “But --”

“But what?” Kurt says, pushing himself off of the door a little. “Why are you so on edge?” Blaine finally glances up at him, disbelieving and a little incredulous. “I’m sorry, I just -- I’m trying to figure out how you’re feeling right now.”

Blaine exhales sharply and grips the edge of the tub with both hands. He’s not even sure where to start. He barely has a handle on the thoughts boomeranging around in his head, much less any idea how he feels about them beyond the initial anxiety and panic. Trying to articulate his thoughts is like picking one at random out of a tumbling lottery. He feels like a mess, but Kurt’s words from last night echo in his mind as if on cue -- _a beautiful mess, my mess_ \-- and the tumbling topics finally start to turn from matter to morphemes. “I’m… still in school,” he manages to get out, figuring that’s a good place to start as any.

“That hasn’t been an issue before,” Kurt points out. “You’ve spent the last three years raising Joy while you’ve been in school.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t in a relationship or pregnant on top of that,” Blaine counters with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “It’s… a lot more to deal with.”

“So you feel overwhelmed,” Kurt guesses, not incorrectly.

Blaine drops his hands and looks back up at Kurt again, deflating. “Are you _not_?”

“Of course I am,” Kurt breathes, eyes a little misty. “I’ve known about my -- our daughter for what, a month? Thinking about the _possibility_ of us having another child right now is just -- god, I don’t even know if I have another word for it.” Insane, Blaine’s mind supplies amidst the chaos, because the thought is insane with everything else that’s going on right now. Still, Kurt’s answer helps to quell Blaine’s mind a little. At least they know that they’re sort of on the same page, now, that the possibility they’re dealing with is enough to set their nerves on edge. Kurt settles down on top of the toilet seat, running his palms over his thighs, but still, he seems less agitated than Blaine feels. “Look,” Kurt says, clearly trying to keep his voice level and even (and quiet, Blaine’s mind supplies, for Joy), “I know that we have a _lot_ of change in front of us. But --” He stops, clamps his lips shut and exhales sharply through his nose, hands gripping his knees tightly. “I’d honestly rather just… get through all of the changes as quickly as we can,” he admits. “Not like I want to just get it over with, god, this isn’t coming out right,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just feel like dragging it out makes it harder for us to get out of transitioning and start fresh.”

“We’re adults,” Blaine reminds him. “We handle things differently. Joy’s _three_. We can’t just dump all of this on her at once. We have to pace ourselves,” Blaine argues imploringly, and he knows that he’s getting a little off topic and deflecting but he can’t help it. It’s like a flip has switched in his brain, opening the veins and letting all of his thoughts tumble out. “Kurt, she doesn’t even know that you’re her _father_.” Kurt inhales sharply, shoulders tensing, and he looks… not uncomfortable, but almost defensive and god, Blaine does not want to argue with him over this, not right now. He pushes himself to his feet and starts to pace the floor, the cold tile shocking against his feet, and runs an agitated hand through his hair again. The concerns cascade out of him now, rushed and rapid and racing. “Kurt, you came back _yesterday_. You’ve been back for what, just over twenty-four hours? Joy’s not used to you being back yet. _I’m_ not used to you being back yet. We haven’t -- we’re not established, there’s no stability yet, my family is still in town, I have finals this week --”

“Hey,” Kurt cuts in, grabbing hold of Blaine’s hand as he passes by. “Look, come here, just -- sit down with me, okay?” He shifts from the toilet seat to the edge of the tub, tugging Blaine along with him until they’re sitting side by side.

It’s the first time they’ve touched since Kurt left him (yet again) with a parting kiss a little while ago, and this -- _this_ is what Blaine has needed. He’d thought he needed Joy, earlier, and he thinks that’s still true. But even though he and Kurt seem to be on both similar and different pages regarding a potential pregnancy right now, Kurt’s touch is still like an anchor to him. It’s a tangible reminder of the fact that Kurt is here, that he came back, that he promised to stay. It’s such a stark contrast to the last time Blaine found out he was pregnant, and Blaine can only hope that it carries over into the aftermath of whatever they might face with the results. “You know, this is all I wanted, last time,” he confesses softly, running his thumb over the back of Kurt’s hand. “After I found out I was pregnant with Joy, after you shut me out, when I was just trying to figure out what to do -- all I wanted was you with me.”

Kurt tightens his grip on Blaine’s hand and scoots closer, their legs brushing against each other. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying,” Kurt promises for the thousandth time. Guilt twists Blaine’s stomach again, and he wonders why he needs to hear it so many times, wonders to what extent he believes it, wonders how many times Kurt has to say it before Blaine will stop questioning it. “Look, let’s just -- let’s just try not to stress out or get more agitated about this right now, okay? We haven’t even looked at the results yet.” Blaine’s eyes flick up to where the test is still resting atop the counter. He inhales sharply, hand squeezing Kurt’s even more tightly. “Do you… want me to look?” Kurt offers, sounding uncomfortable again.

“Would you?” Blaine pleads breathlessly.

Kurt nods once, perfunctory in his movement and response, and it occurs to Blaine, then, just how _much_ Kurt is taking on for him. This is so much more than forgiving Blaine for cheating on him. This is more than deciding to accept and fill his role as Joy’s father. This is rolling with the punches and doing things that would probably make Blaine crumble, right now. Kurt’s the one who took the burden from Blaine’s back, the one who went and bought the test and the one who’s going to read it now. It can’t have been easy for Kurt to have stood in the aisle alone, earlier, purchasing product necessary to prove that the solution to their predicament occupied and dominated the rest of the shelves in front of him. It can’t be easy now, either, and Blaine feels like they’re back in the same boat again (almost), anchored together. Kurt rocks himself to his feet but doesn’t let go of Blaine’s hand, and it’s with an awkward reach that he grabs hold of the test and sinks back down on the edge of the tub. “Positive,” he says, voice shaking a little.

Blaine’s eyes slip shut at the confirmation. “Positive,” he echoes, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

They’re both quiet for a moment, the silence only interrupted by the faint sound of something hitting the plastic bag lining the small garbage can. Blaine feels Kurt shift next to him and opens his eyes just as Kurt sinks to his knees in front of Blaine and takes up Blaine’s other hand. Kurt takes a measured breath before looking up at him, and there’s such a _warmth_ and sincerity behind his eyes that Blaine can’t help but soften a little. “You… _really_ don’t want to go through with this, do you?”

Blaine lets out a breath of disbelief. “Kurt, I’ve only known that this is actually happening for like, sixty seconds.”

“I know, but you were so overwhelmed just talking about the possibility, and you seem so upset about this that I just -- I’m trying not to make assumptions, it just seems like you’re at least strongly leaning in that direction,” Kurt explains, hands slack in Blaine’s.

Blaine averts his gaze for a minute, struggling to find words again. “I haven’t even really had much of an opportunity to think about how I feel, Kurt, much less what I want to do about this.”

“Okay, so… maybe we should talk about this?” Kurt suggests, awkward and hesitant. “Explore the options and try and figure out feelings --”

Blaine closes his eyes and inhales sharply, squeezing Kurt’s hands tight and effectively silencing him. He feels Kurt tense at the touch, a reaction to the emotional transference that they’ve jump-started. Blaine takes a breath to steady himself before he relaxes his grip and opens his eyes, trying not to let his feelings of being overwhelmed incite him into a panic. “I don’t -- I agree with you,” he says finally, starting with a positive. “Talking about this will help sort things out, but I just -- I don’t have it in me right now,” he admits, feeling suddenly tired again. “Look -- Joy’s going to wake up soon, my family’s going to be here in a few hours, I have finals all week. Can we just… revisit this next weekend?”

Kurt’s eyes narrow a little, like he’s thinking about it, and Blaine can finally see real _worry_ there, tinting his irises. “I just -- don’t you think that waiting to talk about this is just going to make us more anxious?”

Blaine’s shoulders sag with exhaustion. “Kurt, I don’t think I have it in me to be any more anxious than I am right now.”

“Fine,” Kurt says, and that’s it -- nothing else, no words, no reactions, no fight. But just because Kurt doesn’t _say_ anything else doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, and Blaine can see it in the way Kurt’s jaw sets and his lips thin into a line before he drops Blaine’s hands. Kurt pushes himself to his feet, just barely suppressing what Blaine guesses would be a heavy sigh, and holds out a hand to help Blaine up.

Blaine doesn’t take it. “You’re upset.”

Kurt inhales sharply and withdraws his hand, settling both hands on his hips and working his jaw a little. “I get why you need the time to think about it -- believe me, I do. You gave me all the time in the world to work things out before I showed up yesterday. But this is -- I’m supposed to spend this week trying to get a handle on what I think and how I feel and what I want, but I can’t do that if I don’t even know what the options are, Blaine. And you’re the one who’s going to dictate the options.”

It’s Blaine’s turn to narrow his eyes, now, but he does it more out of confusion than anything else (and, his subconscious supplies a little belatedly, maybe a little out of hurt, too). “So, what,” he guesses, trying to stay calm, “you think that if we end up wanting different things, you’ll have to censor yourself? Kurt, that’s not -- whatever options we end up discussing shouldn’t change how you feel.”

Kurt looks irritated, now, as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, and he’s so blatantly closed off that Blaine wonders if there’s more to his discontent than just the anxiety of not knowing. “Maybe not,” Kurt allows, “but it affects how comfortable I am sharing.”

Blaine feels all of the fight leave him. They may be exhausted and stressed out and yes, panicking just a little bit, but it’s just a little too much on top of everything else. Kurt just got back _yesterday_. They’ve hardly had time to find their footing again, to settle down and develop a routine and really feel solid about their relationship and the direction things are going in. Yesterday wasn’t perfect, but it was such a _good_ start to a new life together. Blaine felt comfortable, or at least he was starting to. He’d started to believe in Kurt’s promise to stick around, to be here for Joy, to be committed to their relationship. All of that feels bindingly _fragile_ in light of his pregnancy, like a wrench has been thrown in deliberately just to remind them that it’s not going to be -- can never be -- easy or simple. Blaine feels off-kilter and adrift, so it’s not all that surprising to him that the fragility of their situation isn’t lost on Kurt. Kurt’s admission feels like one of insecurity, and while Blaine has Joy to be sure of, right now, Kurt only has him. Kurt’s still deferring to Blaine when it comes to Joy, which means Blaine is the one who has all of the control, and -- _oh_.

Kurt wants to use his voice, and right now he probably feels like Blaine won’t let him.

Blaine lets out a heavy, shaky sigh and holds out his hand, belated and expectant. Kurt spends a good minute considering him before reluctantly unfurling and taking Blaine’s hand in his, pulling Blaine to his feet. The surprise on Kurt’s face is evident when Blaine presses in close and wraps his arms around Kurt’s neck. “We’re in this together, right?” he checks, voice thick with emotion and exhaustion.

The effect of the callback is immediate -- Kurt softens and settles his hands lightly on Blaine’s waist. “Yeah,” he agrees, soft and quiet. “I mean, I hope so.”

Blaine bites back a small smile and tries to choose his next words carefully. “Okay, then you should know -- and if you don’t know, then I’m telling you now -- that your opinion is important to me. I made a decision like this once without you. I don’t want to do that again. I just… need you to hold on to your opinion for a week, that’s all. I need you to just… _be here_ and I need some space and time to just breathe,” he explains, air leaving his lungs in a rush. “And right now, I feel like I can’t breathe.”

The admission seems to strike a chord with Kurt, whose expression shifts into one of empathetic understanding. Still, he’s _quiet_ for a long, hard moment, hands drifting from Blaine’s waist to his hips, fingers ghosting over where they both know the stretch marks mar his skin. It’s a nice, calming anchor for Blaine, Kurt’s touch weighted there, but it also serves as a reminder that Blaine’s body is trying to grow back into his scars. And he can’t think about it right now -- he _can’t_ , not now, not with everything else that’s going on, not when he feels uncomfortable in his own skin, not when his chest is tight and his heart is going to beat him senseless and --

And then Kurt’s lips are on his for the first time since Blaine woke up this morning, and all Blaine _can_ do is breathe through it. Kurt’s lips are soft and wet against his own, strong and sure and yet still exceedingly gentle. Blaine tugs him closer and revels in the way Kurt’s hands grip his hips even harder, like he’s burning new scars into Blaine’s skin. It’s like breaking into a new layer of skin, and in a really weird, twisted way, Blaine feels like regardless of where this goes or what decision they end up making, this is still their fresh start.

In the end, Blaine is the one who finally feels comfortable enough to break the kiss, and between two lungs, Kurt finds his voice again. “I’m here,” he promises, and Blaine thinks that he might really be starting to finally believe it.

“I know.”

* * * * *


	14. Chapter 14

“Let me see your hands,” Kurt instructs, wet wipe at the ready. Joy displays her hands, fingers spread wide and palms facing the sky, and she only fidgets a little when Kurt starts to clean her hands. Kurt glances over at Blaine where he’s sitting on Joy’s other side, taking in the beginnings of dark circles under Blaine’s eyes and the way his brow is knit in concentration as he scrolls through something on his phone. “Everything okay?” Kurt ventures, clapping Joy’s hands together when he’s done cleaning her up.

“Um, yeah,” Blaine answers distractedly, not lifting his gaze. “It’s just -- both of Joy’s regular babysitters are going to be out of the country over the summer. They sent me an e-mail with a list of recommendations for replacements in case I wanted to schedule interviews.”

Kurt tosses the used wet wipe in with the rest of the garbage from their rushed dinner at a cafe just off of campus. “Do you really need to?” Kurt asks. He doesn’t point out that they shouldn’t need babysitters as much now that they’re going to be raising Joy together. He doesn’t remind Blaine that he left work almost two hours early today to meet them for dinner so he could take Joy home and Blaine could give a presentation for one of his finals tonight. Kurt doesn’t even say that he doesn’t mind because this is what he wants -- to be the first person Blaine calls when it comes to Joy.

“It’s smart to have them just in case,” Blaine explains, and okay, Kurt can’t exactly argue with that. He sets his phone down and rubs at his eyes with a weary sigh. “I’ll look over it later. I don’t have the mental capacity to even think about it right now.” He props his head up with his hand and finally looks over at the pair of them. “I should probably head back to campus.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Kurt reassures him, knowing Blaine’s probably a little nervous about it. He digs around in his messenger bag for a minute before unearthing the bottle of ginger ale he’d picked up earlier. “Here,” he offers, holding it out across the table. “Just in case the nausea gets the best of you again.”

Blaine relaxes into a grateful smile and takes it from him. “You are… the best,” he sighs, tucking it into his own bag. He turns his attention to Joy and turns her chair toward him. “Okay, you, Daddy has to go back to school. Kurt’s going to take you home, so be good for him, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Joy looks a little crestfallen, shoulders sagging, but she doesn’t protest or argue. “Okay,” she sighs, sounding a little sad. Kurt’s heart twists with ache. He knows how attached she is to Blaine, knows that no one can comfort her quite like he can, but Kurt also knows that she likes _him_ and is okay with being around him. He’s handled her bedtime routine on his own plenty of times before and she hasn’t really protested beyond the first time back in December, and that had been mostly because she wasn’t feeling well. Kurt would think that she’d be okay with spending more time with him, since she’d gone so long without seeing him, but this is a stark reminder that she doesn’t view him as her father -- at least not yet.

Blaine notices, too, if the way he picks Joy up and pulls her into his lap is any indication. Kurt can see the vestiges of pain and discomfort in the lines of Blaine’s face as he maneuvers their daughter, and Kurt knows that Blaine’s back must be bothering him again. “Kiss,” Blaine requests kindly, “for good luck and good night.” Joy leans in and presses a wet, noisy kiss to Blaine’s nose, causing his face to scrunch up in surprise.

“Alright, you, let’s put your coat back on,” Kurt laughs, pushing himself to his feet and holding her sweater out. Blaine helps her get her feet on the ground, and they’re all a little preoccupied for a minute or two as they gather their things and ready themselves to go their separate ways for the evening. It’s not until Kurt’s bag is slung over his shoulder and Joy is balanced on his hip that he notices how sluggish Blaine’s movements are. Kurt feels a pang of sympathy for Blaine; he knows that being pregnant is making raising Joy and getting through finals a lot more difficult than normal, but Kurt isn’t allowed to talk about it -- at least not until the weekend. Still, he can’t help the amused smile that twists onto his lips as he waits for Blaine to give him what he needs. “Blaine?”

“Hmm?” Blaine hums, hardly sparing Kurt a glance as he finishes gathering his things from the empty chair on his other side.

“I need your keys,” Kurt laughs, holding out a hand expectantly.

Blaine blinks over at him, clearly caught off guard. “Oh, right,” he says distractedly, digging in his pocket until he unearths his keychain. “Sorry, I’m not used to -- I’m just normally home when you arrive and you don’t usually leave if I’m not there and I just -- here,” he sighs, sounding frazzled as he hands the keys over.

Kurt reaches out for the keys but holds onto Blaine’s hand before taking them. “Hey,” Kurt says, gentle and warm, “just breathe, okay? I promised I’d stay with you guys for the week to help you get through finals. It’s going to be fine.” He takes a step closer and leans in for a soft, sweet kiss, their hands still clutched around the keys. “Don’t stress out, okay?” he murmurs as he pulls away. “It’s really not good for you.” Blaine’s sharp inhale is the only telltale sign Kurt needs to know that he’s said something he shouldn’t have. Kurt tries to keep the flush out of his cheeks as he straightens up and adjusts his hold on Joy. “Good luck with your presentation,” he offers, attempting to shift focus.

Blaine offers a tight, tense smile in return. “Thanks,” he says, and that, at least sounds genuine. “I’ll see you when I get home tonight.”

Thankfully, Blaine doesn’t live all that far from campus, so Kurt doesn’t have any qualms about carrying Joy through the bustling crowds as the city loses sunlight. It makes him feel better, to have her this close to him, to know that she’s safe in his arms. She seems to appreciate being held, too, because for all that she’s fairly quiet on the walk home, she’s extra tactile and affectionate. Her fingers curl into the material of his vest and she nuzzles her face against his neck, breath warm against his skin. He remembers seeing her do almost the exact same thing to Blaine on New Year’s, and Kurt feels the echo of his heart growing three sizes, beating loudly.

Joy’s silence lasts mostly until they get back to the apartment and Kurt has her in the bath, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow and shampoo lathered in her hair. And it’s there, in the water with a rubber duck in her hands, that Joy finds her voice again. “Kurt?”

“Head back, eyes closed,” Kurt instructs, using the showerhead to rinse the shampoo out of her hair. She sputters and whimpers when some of the water gets into her eyes, prompting Kurt to reach for the washcloth to help clear them and ease the irritation. She blinks blearily up at him once she feels comfortable enough, looking more tired than Kurt would expect at this hour. Blaine had told him, over the weekend, about her increased energy and desire to stay up longer. This feels different from that, but Kurt thinks that the weekend may have worn her out more than any of them realized. She’s also observant and attuned to Blaine’s moods and behaviors, and with the way Blaine has been dragging lately -- particularly since he found out he was pregnant -- Kurt wouldn’t be surprised if Joy’s being influenced by Blaine’s lack of energy. “What is it, honey?” he prompts, reaching for the conditioner.

“Are you a prince?” she asks.

Kurt barks out a laugh and smiles down at her, amused. “No,” he admits, charmed by the question, “but sometimes I wish I was. Why?”

“You kiss Daddy like a prince.”

Kurt hesitates for a moment, debating. They haven’t gone to the trouble of concealing displays of affection in front of her in a while. She’s seen them kissing a number of times. Kurt knows that Blaine wouldn’t do it or allow it if he wasn’t comfortable with explaining their relationship to Joy. But that’s the thing -- for all that she’s seen them together, they haven’t actually told her or explained it to her before. There’s a part of Kurt that feels like Blaine would want to be the one to handle this, but there’s another part of him that knows how overwhelmed Blaine is right now. He’s avoiding all discussion of his pregnancy for an entire week because he’s so overwhelmed, and Kurt thinks that Joy’s questions might not be all that welcome by Blaine right now. But Kurt is her father, too, even if she doesn’t know it yet, and he’s committed to being here. It’s _their_ relationship, not just Blaine’s, so Kurt feels like he has some license to handle answering this one on his own without having to go through Blaine. He clicks the lid on the bottle shut and starts to work the conditioner into her hair. “Your Daddy and I kiss because we’re together,” Kurt explains, trying to gently work the tangles out of her curly hair. He gives himself a minute to work through a particularly difficult knot while he tries to figure out how to give her a better frame of reference than fairytales. “Like your grandpa and grandma are together,” he tries, wishing he had a better explanation.

Surprisingly, it’s enough. He’s not entirely sure she really understands what he means, but it _seems_ like she does. “Okay,” she says, and that’s all the reply he gets before she’s reaching for one of the squirting water toys and handing it to him.

It’s that easy. God, he wishes everything else were this easy.

Still, it’s enough to bolster his confidence and make him feel relaxed and comfortable as he helps her through the rest of her nighttime routine. He lets her pick out her own pajamas -- because every moment is an opportunity for fashion, his fifteen-year-old self reminds him, and even though her tastes are a little… eccentric and mismatched at the moment, he knows how important it is to let her start making her own choices. He’s learned that from Blaine, in recent months, with the way he gives her opportunities and asks questions. Kurt has always been one to express himself through clothes; it’s nice to see Blaine encouraging Joy to do the same thing.

Tonight, she (thankfully) chooses a matching thermal set and props Margaret Thatcher up on her pillow with a new orange plush dinosaur that Cooper had given Joy for her birthday. She’s yet to pick a name for the dinosaur, but she’s already determined that it’s her beloved dog’s new best friend. “They want to listen,” she explains, following Kurt as he sinks onto the rocking chair. She clambers onto his lap with ease and doesn’t protest his choice of book.

She yawns a little once he closes the book, her fingers dancing along his throat. He’s not all that surprised that she only wants one book tonight, given how tired she seemed in the bath a little while ago. He smiles warmly down at her and begins to rub her back as she drops her hand and curls in close, pulling his voice from him. He’s not entirely sure where [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd3I_gGPUCs) comes from; he hasn’t heard it in ages and it’s not particularly in his wheelhouse, as a vocalist. But the words fall out of him melodiously -- _tell me now where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart_ \-- and it’s the best he’s sounded in a long time, range explored and pitch practically perfect. He doesn’t expect her to know it, but she doesn’t seem to care, if the way her breathing starts to even out and her hands cling to him a little tighter are any indication. She doesn’t react beyond that, doesn’t speak until he’s closing out the song, runs and vocalizing turning into quiet humming behind his lips. “Kurt?” she breathes, clearly teetering on the edge of sleep.

“Hmm?” he prompts, carding his fingers through her curls.

“Do you love Daddy?”

His hands still, briefly, but there’s no hesitation in his answer. “Yeah,” he admits quietly, “I do.” She makes a soft noise that sounds like assent, but when he ducks his head to try and gauge her expression and reaction, she’s pretty much already asleep. He smiles down fondly at her and resumes rubbing her back, wanting to give her a few minutes to really settle before he moves her into the bed.

The photograph on the wall of Blaine holding Joy on the day she was born catches Kurt’s eye while he rocks her gently. Joy is so different, now, or at least, Kurt thinks she is. He’s missed out on so _much_ with her. He realizes that there are still years in front of them, years to watch her continue to change and grow into her own person. But he feels like he’s missed out on something really important. All of his opportunities are about experiences and making impressions upon her. He may be doing well so far, but she doesn’t know the truth, can’t possibly trust him the same way that she trusts Blaine. Kurt feels like he has so much to prove to her (and to Blaine, the back of his mind supplies), but there’s a part of him that wishes he didn’t have to make good impressions. He wants to be what Blaine is to her -- a permanent fixture, a piece that was never missing. But that’s never going to happen, and Kurt finds solace in the fact that at least the fact that he was missing means that there is a place for him, now. He’s willing to bend over backward to help things click into place.

The thing is, Kurt has the opportunity to get what he wants, to experience everything he missed out on with Joy. The fact that Blaine is pregnant means that Kurt might be able to fit into the puzzle more naturally, without things feeling a little awkward or forced. If they decide to go through with this, Kurt will have all of the opportunity in the world to have a hand in influencing and shaping their children and their family. He remembers feeling the push/pull in the bathroom with Joy, earlier, when she’d asked about his relationship with Blaine. How he feels isn’t all that different from how he’s felt in the past. He is his own person, an individual piece that stands out, but he doesn’t feel complete without the rest of the puzzle pieces. The picture isn’t complete if the pieces aren’t connected, the shared existence mutually beneficial. So much of what Kurt has been learning -- or relearning, depending on how he looks at it -- has been about this. He is his own man, but it’s okay to need people. And Kurt needs this -- wants this, despite only having known about it for three days. He wants a chance to contribute a piece to the puzzle -- an extension of himself.

He wants this baby, and realizing that and owning up to it absolutely terrifies him.

He turns his attention back to his daughter in his arms, searching for an anchor. He presses a kiss to her forehead, and, upon seeing her drooling onto his shirt, smiles against her skin.

_Welcome to parenthood_.

With Joy in his arms and Blaine’s words in his ears, Kurt remembers when he’d only thought he might have the capacity to love her. And even though the path in front of him is untraveled and sure to be long and difficult, he takes comfort in how far his heart has come.

Because he may be an absolute mess, but he feels beautiful.

* * * * *

Kurt’s just finished washing the last of the dishes on Friday night when he feels a slight tug on his pants. He glances down as he dries off his hands and smiles down at a bathed and pajama-clad Joy. “Daddy says it’s good night time.”

Kurt sets the towel down on the counter and bends down to hoist her up into his arms. Her hands immediately reach for his scarf, fingers exploring the texture of the wool. She reminds him so much of himself as a child, obsessed with the fabrics of his mother’s wardrobe. It’s not the first time he’s felt this sort of kinship with her; over Christmas, Blaine had sent him a picture of Joy wrapped up in one of Blaine’s new cardigans (and oh, she’s really got a thing for animal patterns, then, Kurt figures). Kurt had identified with her then, too, even though he hadn’t known she was his daughter. He remembers the rough flannel of his father’s shirts against the pads of his fingers, remembers wrapping himself up in them for comfort despite his general distaste for the material. Her love of clothes probably stems from Blaine, but at moments like this, with her focus on the pieces of his compositions, Kurt feels like there are pieces of her that have stemmed from him, too.

Warmth blooming in his chest, Kurt carries her out of the kitchen and into the hallway. “Where is Daddy, hmm?”

“There,” she says, one hand pointing in the direction of the bathroom while the other still grips Kurt’s scarf.

Kurt glances over at the closed bathroom door, wincing a little when he hears the telltale sign of Blaine vomiting into the toilet for the umpteenth time this week. “Let’s pick out a book,” Kurt suggests, carrying her into the bedroom to distract her from Blaine’s misery. He sets her down on the floor, hand reaching out to right her when she trips in her haste to go to the crammed bookshelf. “Slow down,” he laughs, sinking into the rocking chair. “The books aren’t going anywhere.” She takes her time in selecting, though, pulling a few different books off of the shelf as she clearly looks for something in particular. He uses the extra minute or two to chance a glance over at the bathroom door when he hears the toilet flush, the sound of Blaine brushing his teeth following not long after.

“This one!” Joy finally proclaims, gripping the edges of the book with both hands and bringing it over to him. He takes it from her and tucks it next to him, focusing instead on taking both of her hands in hers to help her climb up onto his lap. She settles in rather ungracefully, knees digging into his thighs, but once she’s comfortable she stills, fingers reaching for his scarf again.

Kurt smiles to himself and drops a quick kiss to her forehead before turning his attention to the book she’s selected. It’s one of the more abstract ones -- a story about a lonely ghost who turns into a cloud during a thunderstorm -- but the artwork in it is beautiful, pastels popping up in unexpected places. Joy snuggles in closer when he opens the book to the first page, but they’re interrupted before they even begin. “Hey,” Blaine sighs, sounding tired. Kurt glances up at where Blaine is leaning against the doorframe, smile barely there.

“Hey,” Kurt greets, noticing how Blaine’s cheeks lack color. “You feeling okay?”

Blaine shrugs and waves his hand in a _so-so_ manner. “I might try warming up some leftovers later, if I feel like I can keep them down.”

“It’s book time, Daddy,” Joy says, tapping the page of the book. “Sit!”

“In a minute,” Blaine placates, eyes still focused on Kurt. “Did you, um -- it’s Friday, did you want to call your dad?”

“I can call him after,” Kurt says, holding up the book a little. “We were just about to read the story of Lucy the ghost.”

“I can take care of the rest of bedtime,” Blaine says, pushing himself off of the frame and stepping into the room. “You go call your dad. Come here, sweetheart,” he beckons, holding out a hand.

Joy’s fingers are gone from Kurt’s scarf and she’s trying to clamber off of his lap before he even gets a chance to speak. “Blaine, it’s really okay. I don’t --”

“Please,” Blaine requests, groaning as he hoists Joy up into his arms. He stops in front of the chair and holds out a hand for the book, but his expression is soft, pleading. “I know how important your standing Friday night dinner dates are to your family,” he says quietly. “Go call your dad, and then we can have one of our standing dates.”

Briefly, the memory of making such an arrangement Saturday night sparks in Kurt’s mind. He remembers Blaine’s explanation about the scrapbooks he’s made and kept over the years, remembers Blaine’s offer to share them with him. They’re something tangible for the years that Kurt has missed out on, and it’s not lost on him that Blaine didn’t just notice that Kurt yearns to have that -- Blaine remembered, too. And with the week that Blaine has had -- his family in town for Joy’s birthday, Kurt’s return, discovering that he’s pregnant, and finals all week on top of that -- Kurt finds himself both impressed and a little touched. There are pages and photographs to fill in the holes for him -- one for each year, Blaine had said, all starting on birthdays. All except the first two, Kurt remembers: one opening with the day she was born, the other --

The other one -- the _first_ one, Kurt realizes -- probably documented Blaine’s pregnancy.

_Oh_.

Blaine isn’t just cashing in one of their standing dates. This isn’t just doing Kurt a favor and filling in the gaps. This is Blaine’s way of breaking the ice, of saying _I’m ready to at least start talking about this_. This is Kurt’s opportunity to tell Blaine what he wants. It’s an opportunity for Kurt to gain insight into what Blaine’s pregnancy was like before, but beyond that, it’s a chance to for Kurt to see how Blaine feels about the prospect of going through it again. And Kurt gets why Blaine might want the next twenty minutes or so alone with their daughter -- she is the tangible proof of what came out of his last pregnancy.

She is their something good.

Kurt leaves the book on the rocking chair and places his hand in Blaine’s instead, rising to his feet. He holds Blaine’s gaze for a moment to convey his understanding before turning his attention to Joy. “Kiss goodnight,” Kurt requests, leaning in a little. Joy obliges with a kiss to his cheek, and out of the corner of his eye, Kurt sees Blaine bite back a smile. Bolstered and a little hopeful, Kurt leans in to press a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips before he makes his exit.

In his wake, he leaves a lonely ghost behind.

Kurt tries to keep himself preoccupied while he’s on the phone with his dad. He pours Blaine two glasses -- one of water, one of ginger ale to help settle his stomach. He portions out some of the leftovers into a separate dish just in case Blaine has an appetite and a calm stomach later. He even cleans out the clutter from his messenger bag. It’s all meant to be a distraction, and Kurt _knows_ that. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to his dad; he _does_ , particularly since they haven’t spoken since he’d shown up at Blaine’s door last Saturday morning. The desire to fill in the blanks is there for both of them, but the that’s sort of the problem -- Kurt can’t fill in all of the blanks. For all that his life has kind of been turned upside down in the last week, Kurt hasn’t actually been able to deal with all of it because he hasn’t been able to talk about it with Blaine. Kurt feels like his life is in this weird, standstill, forward motion kind of place; time keeps moving forward, but he doesn’t. The changes that he’s expecting to happen aren’t happening, and when his dad teases him by reminding him that happy endings don’t happen overnight, Kurt has to bite his tongue hard not to tell his dad the real reason behind his confused and happy discomfort.

He’s barely off of the phone and settled onto the couch when Blaine finally emerges from the hallway, scrapbook in hand. The glasses on the coffee table catch Blaine’s eye, briefly, and his smile is full of affection when he sinks down on the cushions next to Kurt. “That was… thoughtful of you,” Blaine comments. “Thank you.” He pauses and looks down at the scrapbook on his lap, hands smoothing over the cover. “Thank you for… everything you’ve done this week, actually,” he sighs. “I asked for the week and you gave it to me. And this --” Another pause, but this time he reaches out for Kurt’s hand and places it on top of the book as well. “This is my way of saying thank you, but it’s also -- this is really all I have to give right now, Kurt.” He looks back up at Kurt, worry and exhaustion evident in his eyes, but there’s such warmth and affection there that Kurt can’t help the fact that his heart skips a beat. “I haven’t been able to really wrap my head around what I’m thinking or feeling yet, and I guarantee you that I’m not going to be in any position to make a decision tonight, but I can listen. I can give you the chance to tell me what you’re thinking and how you’re feeling. And I just -- I thought this might help,” he explains, tapping the cover of the book.

Kurt leans over the book and kisses him, fingers gripping Blaine’s hard. For all that he knows making a life together is going to take time, Kurt is glad that Blaine is giving him the opportunity to at least feel like they’re moving in a forward direction. This is an opportunity to use his voice, and Blaine is asking it of him, placing value in Kurt’s thoughts and feelings and desires and taking them into account. Blaine exhales shakily when they break apart, and after a beat, he moves his hands off of the cover of the book.

They’re mostly quiet for a little while as Kurt slowly turns the pages, their legs brushing against each other. Kurt’s fingers trace around the edge of the first sonogram as he remembers -- _I didn’t know I was pregnant with Joy until I was staring at her in black and white._ This was Blaine’s first knowledge and perception of their daughter, a tangible reminder that Kurt hadn’t left him -- at least not entirely. Blaine shifts a little uncomfortably next to him as he turns the pages and Blaine’s body starts to change from photograph to photograph. There’s a capture of his belly from literally every week, the images reflecting growth. “Why did you document it?” Kurt asks curiously. “Your pregnancy. You said you were originally planning on giving the baby up for adoption.”

Blaine rubs at the back of his neck. “I thought the adoptive family might appreciate it,” he explains.

“That didn’t exactly work out the way you thought it would,” Kurt points out.

The corners of Blaine’s mouth twitch into a small smile. “No,” he says, “it didn’t.”

Kurt just barely bites back his own smile and tries to keep his focus on the pages in front of him. It’s so _strange_ to see Blaine’s body like this, even if it’s just in photographs, and Kurt wonders how Blaine coped with it, back then. “What was it like?” Kurt asks, and then, after realizing how inane and vague that sounds, he tries, “What was the best part?”

“Of being pregnant?” Blaine clarifies.

Kurt nods. “Yeah, I mean -- you went through with it, even though you weren’t planning to keep her. I guess I just -- I kind of thought that there had to be something good about it for you to go through with it.”

Blaine settles against the back of the couch, wincing a little before grabbing one of the throw pillows to support his lower back. “It was… I don’t know, I guess I just saw it as a way to make myself feel like I could still do something good? I knew that if I went through with the pregnancy and gave the baby up for adoption, I could help make some family really happy.” Kurt smiles and reaches over to brush his fingers along the back one of Blaine’s hands. But Blaine doesn’t react or return Kurt’s smile, his eyes distant even though they’re trained on the pages in front of them. “In a weird way, knowing I was planning on giving the baby up was also the worst part, more than the growing pains.”

“How so?”

“I had to disassociate,” Blaine says, voice flat and sounding a little like he’s trying to disassociate now. “I couldn’t let myself get attached to the baby I was carrying. And that was… _hard_ ,” he breathes, present again but still not meeting Kurt’s eyes. “When I could finally feel her moving, I was -- I had to keep my feelings in check,” he admits. “I could be happy, but I had to be happy because all that it meant was that the baby was developing well for the adoptive family. I couldn’t think about her as ours, or even as mine.” And finally he meets Kurt’s gaze, eyes a little wet but still full of warmth. “I think that’s probably why everything hit me so hard when I first held her. I’d been suppressing all of these emotions for months because I kept telling myself I wasn’t allowed to have them. And then she was there, in _my_ arms with _your_ nose and I just -- it was like breaking through a dam,” he breathes. “And I just… let myself get swept away.” He turns another page in the book and inhales sharply at the sight of himself heavily pregnant with Joy. “It’s weird, thinking that my body is doing this again, that it’s trying to let another baby grow into it. It’s -- my body knows that there’s something off, but I just don’t know if it’s totally hit me, yet.”

“You’ve had a lot going on,” Kurt reasons awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably on the couch and letting his hands fall slack around the edges of the book.

“So have you,” Blaine argues. He hesitates for a second before moving the scrapbook onto the coffee table, reaching for the glass of ginger ale. “But I know you’ve been thinking about it,” Blaine says, because Blaine _knows_ him, and all of Kurt’s awkward accidental references and attempts at avoiding the subject have stuck out like sore thumbs all week long.

Kurt shifts and turns to face him, hand gripping his knee to anchor himself. “Yeah,” he admits, glad that he can finally talk about this, “I have. I keep thinking about all of the things you said last weekend -- about how much we have going on right now and what we still have in front of us. I keep thinking about how… overwhelmed you’ve been feeling and I’m guessing that’s affecting how you might be thinking about this? With everything else we’re trying to deal with, I can see how you might feel like the timing is less than ideal.”

Blaine lets out a dry laugh before taking a sip of his drink. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

Kurt fidgets awkwardly with his fingers and takes a breath to steady himself. “Regardless of the timing,” he says slowly, making sure the words feel right on his tongue, “I’d… like to have another baby with you.”

Something similar to surprise flickers in Blaine’s eyes, but his expression shows more curiosity than anything else. “Okay,” Blaine says, speech just as slow. They’re both being so _careful_ with their words, trying to make sure that the ones they voice are what they mean to say. It’s a bit like walking on eggshells, which Kurt is sure neither of them wants, particularly after avoiding this discussion all week, but at least they’re _talking_. Kurt is making an effort to be honest regardless of how much it terrifies him to own up to this, much less confess it to Blaine. “I’m not sure I -- can you maybe explain why, exactly, you feel that way?” Blaine prompts, turning his glass restlessly in his hands.

Kurt takes a second to try and gather his thoughts, to try and find a good place to start. It’s hard, considering that he’s only had six days to really think about this, but he remembers when his mind had started to catch up what his heart and his instincts were trying to tell him. He remembers rocking Joy to sleep only days ago, remembers feeling closer to her since he’s been back. All of the tension melts out of his fingers, and Joy gives him his voice. “I _love_ Joy,” Kurt breathes. The admission gets a rather warm, affectionate smile out of Blaine, his hands finally stilling around the glass. Bolstered, Kurt goes on, words running away with him. “I love her, and I’m looking forward to being able to be here and be a father to her. I don’t --” Here, he hesitates, because he just wants Blaine to understand where he’s coming from, but the words he’s gathering are giving him pause. “I just don’t want it to seem like she matters less to me because of this.”

“I know how much she means to you,” Blaine assures him, soft and warm. “It’s okay. Keep going.”

Another breath to collect himself, heavy in his chest and his shoulders, and it’s with a sideways glance at the scrapbook on the coffee table that Kurt finds his cue. He reaches out a hand toward the glass in Blaine’s hands, hesitating as he waits for Blaine’s permission to take it. Blaine hands it to him, instead, expression still curious and a little more confused than before. Kurt sets the glass back down on the table but doesn’t reach for the scrapbook again. Instead, he takes up one of Blaine’s hands in his, holding it loosely, the touch enough to anchor him and keep Blaine’s attention. “That, Blaine,” he explains, nodding at the book on the table. “I have missed out on that and every other scrapbook of her you have in your bedroom. I missed out on your pregnancy. I missed out on having a hand in raising her early on. And I don’t --” A sharp inhale, here, because this is _important_. “I’ve been trying not to drive myself crazy with the what ifs, Blaine, because as much as I appreciate that you’re willing to share your history with me, that’s kind of the thing -- it’s _your_ history, yours and Joy’s. And I --” Air caught in his chest, Kurt finally feels time catching up with him in one swooping gust, wind beneath his wings. “I’d really like to look forward. I want to be here for Joy, but I want to be here for _you_ , too. And I’d really like the opportunity to be part of and experience all of that,” he says, gesturing toward the scrapbook again, “from the start.”

“Okay,” Blaine sighs, clearly trying to sound patient. Kurt can hear in Blaine’s voice just how tired he is, can still see it in the dark circles under his eyes. Blaine is tired and uncomfortable and doesn’t feel well and has had a hell of a week, and Kurt _gets_ that, he really does. He knows that having this conversation -- or at least the beginnings of it, anyway -- is probably taking a lot out of Blaine. Kurt’s willing to slow down a little, to let Blaine use his voice, too, even if he’s not entirely sure how he feels about this yet. Blaine closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand for a second before looking Kurt in the eyes again, their hands still anchored between them. “You don’t just get an experience out of it, though, Kurt. You get a baby -- you get a whole _person_.”

“I know,” Kurt interjects quickly, adjusting his grip on Blaine’s hand. “That’s -- when I was gone, I went back to Ohio to see my parents,” he confesses, words settling comfortably on his tongue now that he knows he’s on the right track. “Carole -- she talked about why parents are so protective of their children, why they love them so much. And the way she explained it made so much sense to me. Kids are an extension of the self,” he says, remembering Joy’s tactile touches on his fabrics and skin. “But they’re a lot more than that -- they’re opportunities to put something good out in the world. And I know we have that, with Joy,” Kurt assures him, scooting a little closer, “but I can’t help thinking it has to feel different if you’re with them from the start.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says quietly, “I imagine there is a difference.”

Kurt swallows around the lump in his throat and drops his gaze down to where their hands are joined. “I’ve spent the last few years feeling like I’ve been standing still,” he confesses, voice barely there. “I feel like I haven’t been able to grow. I’ve felt… stunted. And I closed myself off from any opportunities that might’ve given me that because my heart felt too damaged to think about trying again.” A beat, and then he flicks his gaze back up to Blaine’s face, heart beating a little faster. “That _changed_ after I ran into you back in September, and it’s just kept changing ever since. I feel like there are doors opening everywhere and I feel like -- like I can finally _breathe_ ,” he says, knowing the sentiment will strike a chord with Blaine. “I feel like I’m close to having all of the opportunity in the world, now.”

“And you want to take it,” Blaine guesses, sounding like he’s finally getting a handle on what Kurt’s feeling.

“I do,” Kurt admits. “And I -- look, I told you as much on Sunday that I’d prefer to deal with a lot of change over a short period of time rather than drag it out. If it were up to me, I’d… want us to have _this_ baby,” he says, eyes sweeping over Blaine’s abdomen briefly. “But I don’t -- I know that this is your choice, Blaine. And I don’t -- I don’t want you to do this just for me,” he adds quickly, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “If we go through with this, I want you to be comfortable with it. I want you to want it, too. And it’s… okay if you don’t,” he says, trying to sound impartial. “Not that I’m expecting you to make that decision tonight, I just --”

Blaine holds up his free hand to silence him, and Kurt clamps his mouth shut, suddenly hyper-aware that he’s started rambling and is probably not helping. Still, Kurt takes comfort in the fact that Blaine’s other hand is still fitted snugly into his own. “Okay, I… think I get it,” Blaine sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “You want me to go through with this pregnancy,” he summarizes.

“I’d like you to,” Kurt confirms quietly, “but I promise I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

Blaine drops his hand from his face and nods, exhaling heavily before turning to meet Kurt’s eyes again. “Okay,” he says simply. “I’ll… try to keep all of that in mind.”

The corner of Kurt’s mouth twitches up into a smile. “Thank you,” he says softly, running his thumb along the back of Blaine’s hand. “It’s nice to feel… heard.” Blaine’s answering smile is barely there, tinged with exhaustion, but he leans in and captures Kurt’s lips in a soft kiss, free hand coming up to anchor warm and heavy on Kurt’s jaw. Heat sparks and coils in Kurt’s gut, his lungs catching fire as he holds his breath through Blaine’s sure, steady kiss. Kurt has to swallow hard before he can even exhale when they break apart, and it takes everything in him -- every reminder of what Blaine’s dealing with (and, subsequently, why they haven’t had sex since their shower escapades last Saturday night) -- not to push Blaine down against the cushions of the couch. Blaine’s hand falls from Kurt’s jaw to rest over Kurt’s beating heart, and Kurt forces himself not to look at Blaine’s lips. “Do you, um --” He stops to clear his throat, takes a second to collect himself and tries to change the subject. “Do you want to try eating again?”

Blaine drops his hand from Kurt’s chest and pulls back a little, shaking his head. “No, maybe -- maybe in a hour? I think my stomach might be able to handle it if I wait a little longer. I, um -- honestly, I kind of just want to sit here for a couple of hours and watch something mindless on t.v.,” he laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck, his cheeks tinging pink.

Warmth blooms in Kurt’s chest all the way up to his eyes. “Come here,” he beckons with a murmur, reaching for the remote on the coffee table and reclining back against the arm of the couch. Blaine casts him an appreciative smile and curls up on top of him, cheek nestled against Kurt’s clavicle. Kurt clicks the television on and decides against any food related shows, opting instead for a _Friends_ marathon on TBS.

They’re barely an episode in, though, before Kurt realizes that Blaine’s breathing has evened out, and a quick duck of his head to glance at Blaine’s face verifies that Blaine has totally fallen asleep on top of him. Unable to bite back an affectionate smile, Kurt rests a palm against Blaine’s back and weaves the fingers of his free hand along with Blaine’s. It’s there, in the quiet, that Kurt remembers his admission to Joy earlier this week about loving Blaine, and it’s here, now, that Kurt feels it most acutely. There’s a warmth to Blaine’s weight on top of him, and while Kurt may love Blaine for making him feel heard, Kurt is reminded that he makes Blaine feel _safe_. It occurs to Kurt, then, that regardless of what Blaine’s decision ends up being, this is honestly probably what Blaine has wanted -- has _needed_ \-- in light of the discovery of his pregnancy. He’s just wanted Kurt here to be his anchor, to feel safe, to keep him from floating aimlessly and adrift.

Kurt presses his lips to Blaine’s forehead, and with Blaine breathing in his arms, Kurt feels home settle into his skin.

* * * * *

Kurt returns to his apartment on Sunday evening.

He hesitates to say home because it doesn’t exactly feel like it, anymore. It’s where he lives and where he still spends at least half of his nights, but it’s just… different, now. His apartment has been his fortress up until now, his quiet place of retreat where he felt free and safe to be himself. It’s not the same, now. His apartment still affords him an opportunity to be alone, a place for his identity to exist without anyone else, but he doesn’t find the same comfort there that he used to. He’s always felt at home with Blaine, and that hasn’t changed even after years apart, but Kurt has long since started to feel that Joy is home, too. And since they’re both in _Blaine’s_ apartment, Kurt feels more comfortable there than he does back in his own walls.

But Kurt is here, back in his own apartment, because this is still _his_ place, and even though he spent a week away from it (a week at _home_ ), he is obligated to come back here. Kurt knows that Blaine had been eternally grateful for the extended stay during finals, but they’d agreed, over the weekend, that they should still try taking things slow for Joy, regardless of everything else going on. So Kurt had agreed to going back to their previously and surreptitiously established routine of Kurt staying over three nights a week -- weekends, mostly, which Kurt appreciates because it gives him extra time with Joy. It’s a little… weird, now that Kurt knows he’s Joy’s father. In a weird way, it almost feels like he’s on probation, and his apartment serves as little more than walls between them.

It’s how Kurt finds himself in the midst of a project during the evening on Tuesday the week of his birthday. He’s been slowly but steadily working on the yellow dress he’d promised Joy he’d make, and tonight finds him perched on the couch surrounded by pins and needles and threads and swatches of fabric and scissors, an old rerun of _Project Runway_ on mute in the background. He’s got his bluetooth headpiece tucked into his ear to keep his hands free while he works, Blaine’s voice a welcome distraction.

“How was today?” Kurt asks, brow knit in concentration as he surveys his work so far. “You said you had to call in one of her baby sitters, right? Because of that meeting you had?”

“Yeah,” Blaine sighs, still (always) sounding tired. “There’s a special day camp that does two week cycles throughout the summer that I’m usually a counselor for. We had one of our preliminary meetings today so I had to call Chloe to watch Joy.”

“Does she usually watch Joy for you while you’re working during the summer?” Kurt asks, plucking a pin from the cushion and trying to pull the fabric together the way he wants it. “I can’t imagine Joy’s been old enough to go with you before.”

“Chloe or Meredith, yeah,” Blaine affirms. “Summer’s usually when I use them the most, but neither of them are going to be here this summer, remember? I’m going to have to find replacements before I start.”

“She can’t go with you?” Kurt inquires.

“Not old enough,” Blaine explains. “They tend to group the kids by approximate age or grade level, but the youngest they’ll admit is age four.”

“Do you have to use a baby sitter? Couldn’t w -- you find another daycare option instead?” Kurt suggests, biting his lip and struggling to get the pin to stay.

“Maybe?” Blaine sighs, sounding a little overwhelmed and put out. “There are a lot of factors involved, but there’s time to figure it out. First session of camp doesn’t start until like a week after Independence Day this year. Normally, they start halfway through June, but I think the school year runs long for all of the elementary and junior high kids this year.”

“Ouch,” Kurt hisses, sucking the pad of his thumb into his mouth to quell the sting. “Sorry, pricked myself with a pin.” He hesitates, taking a step back to survey the work he’s done so far. This is different, too, hearing about the struggles Blaine encounters as the parent of a toddler. It’d been easy for Kurt to offer to help, before, because the instances had (generally) been far and few between, and Kurt had been happy to do it. This feels -- Kurt doesn’t feel _obligated_ to help, now. He’s chosen this, chosen to be a parent to Joy even if he’s being slowly transitioned into it and Joy doesn’t know yet. He wants to help, but he also knows that he can’t just take off for two weeks at a time to take care of his -- their daughter. He’s been using a lot of P.T.O. and banking on Isabelle’s kindness and slight favoritism since December, anyway. He wants to help, because he should be allowed to help, because he’s been trying so _hard_ to use his voice again now that he’s found it. But here, when he speaks, his voice sounds stifled in the uncomfortable quiet. “Do you, um, do you want help looking into options?” he offers, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Blaine’s quiet for a moment on the other end. “Maybe? I --” His sharp inhale is loud and startling in Kurt’s ear, and Blaine’s next words are rushed and almost unintelligible. “Sorry, give me just a sec, I --” And then Blaine’s voice is gone, and Kurt is met with silence for several minutes. He sinks down on the couch and checks his phone on the coffee table intermittently to make sure the call hasn’t ended, his heart beating anxiously, too-loud in the silence. He feels the tension melt out of him when he finally hears Blaine’s voice again, noting how much hoarser Blaine sounds. “Sorry,” Blaine gasps. “That wave of nausea kind of came out of nowhere. I just needed a minute to throw up.”

Kurt’s heart twinges in sympathy. “Still not any better?”

“No,” Blaine sighs, voice sounding a little clearer. “And I started getting a little dehydrated because it’s been happening so often, and that gave me headaches, so I started chugging water all of the time to help balance things out a little, but now I have to pee like, all of the time, which I didn’t have to deal with until later on in my last pregnancy and I just --” Another sigh, much heavier this time, and after a beat, no more words come.

Kurt bites his lip, stomach twisting in knots. He’s been trying to avoid talking about Blaine’s pregnancy again if he can possibly help it. He wants Blaine to take whatever time he feels like he needs to figure out what he wants to do about this. But this is a lot different than Kurt deciding to be a parent to Joy. Kurt had promised that he’d understand if Blaine decides not to go through with this pregnancy -- and he will, he swears he will -- but the problem with waiting is that they can barely afford what Blaine needs: time. The longer Blaine waits to make a decision, the more complicated things become. And if Blaine decides not to go through with this, there are higher risks, later on. So while Kurt is trying to give Blaine time and space to figure this out, it’s not really working because Blaine is living with the reminders of his… condition on a regular basis. It’s getting harder and harder to avoid talking about it, particularly considering the fact that Blaine hasn’t been to see an OB yet and they don’t actually _know_ how far along he is. Kurt wants to help but he _can’t_ , not until Blaine makes a decision, and in the walls of his own apartment, Kurt feels uncomfortably adrift. “You sound miserable,” Kurt points out, quiet and tentative. “Are you… sure you haven’t already made up your mind?”

“No, I haven’t,” Blaine sighs, sounding slightly irritated, almost like he knew Kurt was going to say that. “The constant nausea isn’t influencing my decision, Kurt. It’s just… making it hard to come up with the energy and brainpower to make one.”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt allows, backing off and holding his hands up even though Blaine can’t see him. “I’m not trying to push --”

“I know you’re not,” Blaine assures him, the sharp edge to his voice gone now.

They’re both quiet for a minute before Kurt’s voice shatters the silence. “I just hate that you’re going through this right now,” Kurt says, a new warmth in his tone. “I wish I knew how to make you feel _better_. I wish I knew how to help you make up your mind. I wish -- I wish I knew the right thing to do. Not that there’s a right or wrong answer, I just --”

“I know,” Blaine interjects softly.

Kurt relaxes against the cushions of his couch and takes Blaine’s words at face value. He trusts that Blaine is telling him the truth, that he’s making good on his -- on _their_ promises to communicate better. Kurt trusts Blaine not to be passive-aggressive or to bottle up annoyances and grievances only to use them as ammunition later on. Blaine is not that person anymore -- or, at the very least, he’s trying not to be. Kurt doesn’t think Blaine even has it in him to regress right now, with how worn out and preoccupied he is. If Kurt were smothering him or making him feel pressured, Kurt fully believes that Blaine would just flat out tell him right now. But Blaine isn’t -- _I know_ are the only words Kurt gets and they hold enough weight not to mistake their meaning.

With a solitary hopeful smile, Kurt tries to change the subject. “How’s Joy?”

“She’s fine,” Blaine assures him, affection evident in his voice even over the phone. “She, um, she sort of does this thing after you’ve been gone for a while where she requests songs that you’ve sung to her. I’m kind of impressed that she remembers as much as she does, sometimes.”

“You did say she was a little advanced for her age,” Kurt reminds him. “And I _know_ how observant she is by now, though I can’t say I’m all that surprised. She gets it from you.”

“Really?” Blaine drawls, sounding more teasing and flirtatious than he’s sounded in weeks despite the exhaustion weighing down the edges of his voice. “You think I take particular notice of things?”

“You noticed me.”

Blaine’s quiet for a beat. “That was five years ago,” he points out. “And you’re kind of impossible not to notice.”

Kurt brings a leg up and tucks his chin over his knee, the brightness of Joy’s dress catching his eye. “You noticed me when I felt invisible,” he elaborates, feeling seventeen again. “That, at least, hasn’t changed.” And it’s _there_ , caught in his chest and so, so ready to be said already, but Kurt gives himself a beat, and then another, and he lets his love out with the breath in his lungs, eyes closed and smile content. “Did she ask for something in particular tonight?” Kurt inquires, shifting the focus back where it should be.

“The one with the stars,” Blaine says, missing a beat. “I, um, I thought she might’ve been talking about the song from _Pinocchio_ , because I do it a lot and it’s one of her favorites. But then she mentioned that you’d sung it, and I apparently didn’t guess correctly,” he laughs.

“I know which one she’s talking about,” Kurt says, opening his eyes and unfurling a little as he reaches for a pen and pad of post-it notes on the coffee table to write himself a reminder. “It’s a little obscure -- I’ll play it for you when I come over after work on Friday.” He tosses the pen and stack of post-its onto the coffee table and relaxes against the back of the couch again, fingers reaching out to toy with the fabric of Joy’s dress. “It’s -- this is… good, though, right? It means she misses me, that she wants me there?”

“She does miss you,” Blaine reassures him, a gentle quality to his voice. “I think it’s a good thing? I mean, I didn’t, before, because I didn’t know what you were --” A pause, the hesitation obvious in wake of the reminder of uncertainty, relevant to their recent past and their current predicament. Blaine clears his throat, an obvious attempt at redirecting the conversation and getting them back on track. “I think it’ll help,” he offers, “with the transition. At least I hope it does.” Another pause, much shorter this time, and when Blaine speaks again, Kurt thinks he can hear traces of longing beneath the quiet. “And for what it’s worth, Kurt, I miss you, too.”

Kurt’s smile breaks onto his face without restraint. Inspired, he reaches for his sketchpad, next, and starts to pencil in options for a possible accessory to the dress. “Whose turn is it to send flowers, this time?” he teases.

Blaine’s voice is lilting, now, easy and unaffected, and Kurt thinks that Blaine must be smiling, too. “Mine,” he says, “but don’t expect them until Friday.”

Kurt pauses in his sketching even though Blaine can’t see him. “You remembered,” he says warmly. “I can’t remember the last time I got flowers on my birthday.”

“We’re looking forward to celebrating with you,” Blaine says. A pause, and then, “Promise you won’t be late this time?”

Kurt lets out a breathless laugh, the old argument feeling a little ridiculous, now. “I promise,” he laughs. “Isabelle and I have a planned birthday lunch. No impromptu dinner dates after work. Besides,” he adds, resuming his work, “you were right.”

“About?”

“My standing Friday night dinner dates with my family _are_ important to me,” Kurt says, penciling in a pattern. Blaine lets out a soft _oh_ , and Kurt lets the tip of his pencil hover over the page before he adds, “Especially if there’s cake involved.”

Blaine’s answering laugh sounds a little wet, like he might be crying, or at the very least, close to it. Kurt’s not sure if the response is driven by emotions or hormones, but he’s willing to bet that it might be a little bit of both. “You’re such a dessert fiend,” Blaine teases, voice pitched a little high.

“I’m not the only one with a sweet tooth,” Kurt defends without heat. “You had what, two slices of cake the night of Joy’s birthday?”

“I think that had more to do with the baker than it did the cake, delicious as it was,” Blaine flirts, and god, Kurt’s cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. “Also, I feel like I can play the pregnant card, here,” Blaine adds.

“That was before you knew,” Kurt counters, but something unfamiliar twists inside of him. It’s a little… strange to hear Blaine talk about his pregnancy like this, particularly since he’s been so decidedly against talking about it at all, outside of when they’ve absolutely needed to. Kurt also knows that this pregnancy has been really different from Blaine’s last, and with how crappy Blaine’s been feeling the last few weeks, Kurt wonders if Blaine’s idle comment is just that or a shift in perspective. “Do you, um, do you think you’ll be able to stomach any cake on Friday?” Kurt ventures tentatively.

“If I’m feeling any better, definitely,” Blaine sighs. “I have a pretty great dessert planned.”

“Are you feeling any better now?” Kurt asks, noting the differences in Blaine’s overall tone.

“Yeah,” Blaine says, voice soft and a little wet again, and oh, Kurt thinks Blaine is _actually_ crying, now.

“Are you sure?” Kurt presses, setting down his sketchpad and pencil. “You sound a little…”

“I’m fine,” Blaine laughs wetly, sniffling a little. “Just -- hormones influencing mood swings, that’s all. I’m surprised I haven’t been more weepy before now, actually. But I promise I’m fine. I’m -- right now, I’m actually pretty happy,” Blaine admits, voice going quiet and tender again. “And… admittedly, _really_ tired,” he tacks on with a slight laugh. “I think I’m gonna crash a little early, but, uh, I’ll see you on Friday?”

It’s a slightly abrupt dismissal, but Kurt recognizes that they keep getting dangerously close to infringing upon talking about Blaine’s pregnancy at length and in detail. And while Kurt recognizes that they’re definitely under some sort of time crunch here, he also recognizes that Blaine deserves to have time and space to breathe and think about it without pressure or influence. He’s not entirely sure where Blaine’s at, right now, but given the turn the conversation took toward the end, Kurt thinks Blaine might be getting closer to really getting a handle on how he feels about the pregnancy, and by extension, is getting closer to making a decision.

So Kurt takes a deep breath, wishes Blaine could see him smile over the phone, and says, “It’s a date.”

Upon hearing the click of Blaine hanging up on the other end, Kurt takes his headset out of his ear and tosses it onto the coffee table with the rest of his mess. He takes a second to survey the trappings of his work around him, the colored lights flickering from the television, the silence hanging heavy in the air, Joy’s dress hanging on the petite mannequin. It’s her he thinks about now, in his solitude. He remembers the book she’d selected nearly a week and a half ago, one he’s read to her before but had given to Blaine in favor of calling his dad. In a way, Kurt almost feels like the ghost in the story, locked in loneliness in a tower. But Lucy the ghost had gotten out, had taken a leap of faith out of her window and dared to fly without wings, picking up travel companions and making new friends along the way before returning back to her temporary tower.

With the fabric of Joy’s dress between his fingers and the warmth of Blaine’s voice still buzzing in his ears, Kurt holds onto hope and waits to go home.

* * * * *

The irony of being comfortably at home in a closet is not entirely lost on Kurt.

The closet at Vogue.com isn’t exactly free of ghosts, particularly given the project Kurt is working on. But he’s moved the clothes racks and pedestals and vanity out of the room temporarily so he can sit here in the empty space and with his notepad full of grid paper in front of him, the outline of the room sketched in bare. He takes a second, sets his pencil down, closes his eyes, and tries to visualize.

“Hey,” Isabelle’s voice greets, interrupting his thoughts. He squeezes his eyes shut a little harder, trying to flesh out the idea in his head. “You ready for lunch?”

Kurt waits a second before answering her. “In a second. How hard do you think it would be to get some plumbing in this room?”

“Keep dreaming, honey,” Isabelle laughs. “Remember, we don’t have a huge budget for this. You’ll be lucky if you get a few displays and storage spaces from Ikea.”

Kurt opens his eyes, his lips twisting into a smile. “It’s a good thing you’ve got the world’s best bargain shopper working for you, then.”

Isabelle moves to stand next to where he’s seated on the floor, surveying the room the way he’s been doing. “I get that you’re trying to visualize here, Kurt, with the clothes racks in the hallway and everything, but you do remember that the makeovers are for people and not the closet, right?”

“I know,” Kurt sighs. “But I couldn’t think with all of the clutter. I needed a blank canvas. The layout in here was barely functional. I wanted to try and set things up in a way that made a little more sense and utilized the space better. Makeovers are about more than just appearances, Isabelle. You and I know that better than anyone.”

Isabelle’s mouth twists into a smile, and she holds out a hand to help Kurt up off of the floor. “I’m all for letting you work your creative genius, Kurt, but this closet has multiple purposes, so don’t get too radical. And promise me that you’ll have all of the stuff back in here before you leave. Trying to navigate around all of it in the hallway is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up after myself,” he says teasingly, accepting her proffered hand and rising to his feet. “Give me a few to stop by my desk? I just want to grab a few things before we head out.”

“Sure,” Isabelle agrees amicably. “Meet you at the elevator?”

“Two minutes,” Kurt confirms, already on his way out of the closet to navigate his self-made maze in the hallway. He turns and ducks into the back corner of the office where his desk is, ready to zero in on his phone, wallet, and sunglasses so he can meet Isabelle without delay. He’s distracted by the large floral arrangement on his desk, though, stopping dead in his tracks for a few seconds before a smile blooms onto his face.

Blaine.

Kurt makes a beeline for the flowers, instead, dipping his head to smell them. They’re lilies, which is a little unusual coming from Blaine, given their history, but Kurt’s not about to complain. It’s a nice surprise, and with a fresh and fragrant reminder of the fact that Blaine still manages to take his breath away, Kurt breathes his secrets into the petals. He straightens up, eyes a little warm and fuzzy as they land on the card accompanying the arrangement. He reaches for it with easy, nimble fingers and leans against the side of his desk to read it.

_Hoping you’re happy. Happy Birthday. -- Rachel_

Not Blaine.

Rachel.

_Rachel_.

Fingers feeling numb, Kurt swallows around the lump in his throat and glances back over at the lilies with an apprehension that wasn’t there before, all appreciation for them gone. His chest feels suddenly tight, like the fragrance has turned into a potent poison, spores seeping into his skin and suffocating him.

“Birthday flowers!” Isabelle sings, appearing in the doorway and crossing the threshold to smell them. “From Blaine?” she guesses.

Kurt shakes his head and holds out the card for her to take, fingers slack around the edges. “Rachel,” he says dumbly, unable to tear his eyes away from the flowers despite the tightness in his chest.

“Your old roommate?” Isabelle checks, the memory clearly not as easily recalled as it is for Kurt. He nods, too dumbfounded to speak again. “I didn’t realize you were on speaking terms again.”

“We’re not,” Kurt says thickly, tongue feeling leaden and clumsy in his mouth. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her since I moved out.”

Isabelle glances over the card again before tossing it onto the desk, fingers smoothing over one of the petals. “An olive branch, maybe?”

The idea is so _ridiculous_ that all of the air rushes out of Kurt’s lungs at once, relieving some of the tension. “Who knows?” he sighs, a little dry and bitter. “I haven’t given her any reason to think I’d be open to a reconciliation.”

Isabelle glares pointedly at him, though not without a hint of fondness, and she taps his nose affectionately. “Not everything is about you, dear.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and stands up straight again, intent on ignoring the flowers for now. “Try telling that to Rachel,” he drawls, pocketing his phone and wallet and donning his sunglasses. He holds out an arm to Isabelle and takes a breath to clear his head. “Shall we?” It’s Isabelle’s turn to roll her eyes, but again, her actions are laced with affection. She tucks her arm into his and lets him lead her toward the elevators for lunch. They don’t do this very often: Kurt is uncomfortable with touch outside of people he really trusts, most of the time, and Isabelle is his boss, after all. But she is also his friend, and she’s warm and tiny and tucked up against his side in a way that Rachel was so many years ago, a content companion. It’s an uncomfortable reminder of the flowers he’s left behind, the memory of Rachel twirling in the closet he’s been working in.

Deep breath, head held high, Kurt takes comfort in the fact that this is Isabelle and steps outside into the sun, leaving Rachel’s ghost behind.

As they settle into their seats at an outdoor table, Kurt declines Isabelle’s offer for a celebratory birthday drink and focuses instead on perusing the menu, reclining comfortably against the back of the chair. It’s only after a few moments of silence between them that he glances up and notices her head lifted in his direction. He can’t see her eyes behind the lenses of her sunglasses, but he can tell she’s been surveying him for a minute or two by the warm and thoughtful smile on her lips. He rolls his eyes even though she can’t see it and sighs a little dramatically. “What?” he laughs, tossing his menu on the table.

Isabelle’s smile breaks into a grin, and she ducks her head a little at being caught. “Nothing, it’s just -- most of the time I see you as the nineteen-year-old kid I hired. But… right now? I don’t see that kid at all. You’re twenty-three and you look different and you act different and you’re making me feel _old_ ,” she teases, clearly deflecting.

“I don’t feel like a kid any more,” he says, taking her original cue. “Or at least, I feel like I’m ready to not be a kid.”

There’s a brief lull in the conversation as their waitress comes over to take their orders, but Isabelle picks it up exactly where he expects her to, and this time, it feels more like genuine interest and curiosity as opposed to deliberate prying. It helps that he already had the big confessional conversation with her weeks ago, just before Joy’s birthday. It takes some of the pressure off and makes their conversations less awkward. “How are things?” she asks, taking a sip of her lemonade. “With Blaine and Joy?”

“Good,” Kurt answers warmly, because they _are_ despite the stress and awkwardness regarding Blaine’s pregnancy and Kurt’s desires to be spending more time with them. And it’s not worth mentioning the former, at least, because he and Blaine have agreed not to mention the pregnancy to anyone else yet. “We’re still sort of taking things a little slow in terms of transitioning,” he explains, tracing patterns in the condensation gathered on his glass. “We agreed that Joy needs enough time to get used to me being around again before we try explaining things to her.”

“How long do you think he wants to wait before telling her?” Isabelle inquires. “Is there some sort of timeline in mind? How far ahead are you guys thinking right now?”

“I… honestly don’t know,” Kurt sighs, tugging his napkin into his lap and rubbing the cloth between his fingers. “It’s kind of… complicated? There are other factors involved, so we’re just kind of… taking things one at a time. I’m not going anywhere. Blaine knows that -- at least, I know I’ve told him that a million times. Whether he believes it or not, I couldn’t tell you.” He glances up to find Isabelle staring at him again, her study much more apparent this time. “Why?”

Isabelle’s quiet for a minute before she settles against the back of her own chair with a sigh. “Do you remember when you first told me about them, back in February? Do you remember what you said about opportunity?” Kurt nods and tries not to think about how he’d practically waxed poetic about opportunity to Blaine when they’d talked about the pregnancy. He reaches for his own glass and takes a large drink to help soothe his dry throat. “I just want you to realize that you have opportunities now, Kurt,” Isabelle says, catching his attention again. “You have a child. There are things you can do for her, in the long run. Maybe Blaine, too, depending on where your relationship goes, but --”

“Like what?” Kurt interrupts.

“Like your benefits extend to her, now,” Isabelle explains. “You can add her to your insurance. You can take advantage of the day care center on the second floor of the building.”

“I hadn’t even thought about any of that,” Kurt admits. “But that’s… really good to know,” he hums thoughtfully, unable to help thinking about the opportunities available to any and all children he might have. “I’ll be sure to mention it to Blaine. I’m assuming H.R. handles all of that, if I decide to take advantage of it?”

“Stacie will be your new best friend,” Isabelle laughs, nodding. “She’s a pro. She’d even know how to handle adding Blaine into the mix, if you guys ever --”

“Oh my god, do not even go there,” Kurt warns, throwing his napkin at her. “Things are good right now. I don’t want to jinx anything.”

Isabelle just gives him a look. “Kurt, you’re committed to raising your daughter together. Your smile reaches your eyes when you talk about him. Do you really think you’re not headed in that direction?”

Kurt squashes down the fleeting desire his heart has to beat faster and glances down at his lap. “We haven’t even been back together for four months yet, Isabelle.”

“But you have a history to build off of,” Isabelle argues.

Kurt takes a breath to steady himself and flicks his gaze back up at her deliberately. “One thing at a time,” he reiterates, but his resistance is melting away, smile quirking the corners of his mouth up.

Another break in the conversation as their food is brought to the table, and again, Isabelle is the one to pick up the conversation after tossing Kurt’s napkin back at him. This time, he can sense that she’s got an agenda even before she opens her mouth, and it makes him hesitant to even take the first bite of his meal. “So,” she sighs, sounding falsely bright, “Rachel sent you flowers.”

Kurt closes his eyes, hand clutching his fork tightly. “I don’t even know where you’re going with this, but I am already rethinking the offer for an alcoholic beverage.”

“You really don’t think it was an olive branch, do you?” Isabelle muses.

Kurt sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. This is not how he pictured this lunch going. “I don’t know,” he answers, because it’s the truth, not that he’s thought about it all that much.

“Well, what if it was?” Isabelle tries, clearly not ready to let the subject drop.

Kurt inhales sharply and opens his eyes, feeling every bit nineteen again as he determinedly doesn’t look Isabelle in the eye. “I don’t know that I’d care.”

“You’re not that stubborn,” Isabelle dismisses, and before Kurt can even voice his protest, she’s waving her fork at him to silence him. “And don’t even use the whole ‘we’ve haven’t even known each other for four years yet’ argument on me, okay? Within the first week I knew you, I knew we were kindred spirits, Kurt,” she reminds him. _That_ gets him to look up at her, and he can feel a smile tugging at his lips, just barely. “And just because I haven’t known you your whole life and I only have a handle on who you’ve been since I met you doesn’t mean I don’t know you. I do. And I know you well enough to know that you don’t usually hold a grudge forever. You wouldn’t be with Blaine or even know about Joy if you did.”

Kurt sets his fork down on his plate with a loud clatter, frustrated. “That’s entirely different,” he argues.

“Is it?” she asks. “Sometimes it’s the not forgiving that holds us back. How different do you think things would be for you right now if Blaine and Joy weren’t in the picture? Do you think you would’ve been able to reconnect with him if you hadn’t already forgiven him by the time you ran into him? If you hadn’t moved on?”

“Blaine isn’t Rachel,” Kurt points out, working his jaw a little. _I am not Rachel_ is left unsaid, but he’s definitely thinking it.

“No,” Isabelle agrees, sounding calm and reasonable, “he’s not. Blaine is still _Blaine_ , even after all these years, from what you tell me, but he’s different, isn’t he? Aren’t you? You’re not kids anymore, Kurt. You’ve grown up.”

Isabelle’s observation about them, at least, is accurate, but then again, she’s always been fairly perceptive when it comes to his relationship with Blaine. “Yeah,” Kurt agrees, softening just a touch, “we have.”

“Doesn’t it stand to reason that maybe Rachel’s changed, too?” Isabelle suggests. “She sent you _flowers_ , Kurt.”

“Can you just get to the point?” Kurt asks, sighing tiredly. “I’d like to be able to _enjoy_ my birthday lunch.”

“If the flowers are an olive branch, if Rachel has changed -- if she’s _trying_ to change -- then… maybe she’d been a good candidate for the makeover series,” Isabelle ventures. “You know, really bring the whole project full circle.”

It’s too much -- the flowers, Isabelle’s not-so-gentle nudging, the ghost of Rachel within walls that are supposed to belong to him, supposed to be his safety net. He _is_ stubborn, he’ll give Isabelle that. He knows that. He’s known that about himself for a very long time. But he’s never told Isabelle the details of what happened with Rachel, never explained to her why he thinks so poorly of Rachel, why the mere memory and discussion of her is enough to set his teeth on edge and make his skin crawl. And he doesn’t want that -- he absolutely is not going to let Rachel’s ghost make him feel uncomfortable in his own skin, not when he’s finally really starting to own it. He has a home again, a role to learn and settle into, and he’s not going to let anything take it from him. He takes a deep breath and sits up straight again, squaring his shoulders and picking up his fork. “I’m invoking birthday privileges,” he announces, forcing himself to sound happy in the hopes that it’ll actually get him back there. “And the birthday boy absolutely does not want to talk about Rachel Berry any more today.”

Isabelle shakes her head and picks up her own fork. “You’re so stubborn.”

Kurt works his jaw a little, trying not to let himself get worked up again. Still, the comment punctures his manufactured bubble, and not for the first time, Kurt lets himself be a little vulnerable around Isabelle. “Your heart is in the right place, Isabelle,” he sighs, stabbing at the salad accompanying his meal, “but you don’t get to just wave a wand and magically make everything okay.”

“To be fair, it’s part of the job description,” she teases, and Kurt knows, then, that she’ll let him say his piece and then let the subject drop. She means well, and Kurt _knows_ that. He knows that she pushes him because she sees so much of herself in him, and she wants to give him successes where she failed.

But Kurt Hummel is -- has always been -- his own person, and no matter how hard Isabelle tries to work her magic on the various aspects of his life, she can’t change him or the people he has (or had) in his life. Kurt has always been the one to make the changes and sacrifices, to put in the hard work, to _earn_ his happy endings. And while the pacing of the transition into a family unit with Blaine and Joy is a little frustrating for Kurt at times, he knows that it’s necessary. And it’s _that_ , a simple reminder of where his heart and mind and focus and energy are right now, that makes it easier to share secrets with Isabelle and put the subject of Rachel to rest. “Do you remember, back in February, when you asked if I felt like I was meant to grow into being a parent?”

Isabelle looks a little surprised at the turn the conversation has taken, but understanding seems to dawn on her features after a moment, and Kurt knows that she gets what he’s trying to do, to bring the conversation full circle. “Yes,” she confirms, voice soft.

Kurt sets his fork down and pries his glasses off of his face, grateful that the sun prevents him from having to look Isabelle in the eye. “This whole time, I’ve been telling myself that it didn’t matter whether or not I was meant to because it’s what I’m _choosing_. But this, Isabelle? Who I am now, who I’m trying to be? It feels right. It feels like I’m finally growing into the person I’m supposed to be. And -- I told Blaine that I’ve been trying not to drive myself crazy with the what ifs.”

“And you don’t want to start now,” Isabelle guesses. “You want to look forward.”

Kurt angles himself a little out of the sunlight so he can look at Isabelle properly, grateful that she understands. “When I was friends with Rachel, I wasn’t always the best version of myself,” he admits. “If I’d stayed friends with her, I don’t think I’d be able to be a parent to Joy now. I don’t even know that I would’ve gotten back together with Blaine.”

“Okay, so what,” Isabelle sighs, pulling off her own sunglasses now and rubbing at her eyes, “you feel like if you open yourself up to the possibility that Rachel is reaching out to you, it’ll somehow jeopardize what you have with Blaine and Joy?”

Kurt bites back the comment he wants to make about the unfair exchanges the universe seems to put him through and focuses instead on making his point. “When Rachel and I were together, our similarities were stronger, more obvious. I was more selfish when I was around her. But being friends with her meant that you had to agree with her ideology, which meant that she was always the number one priority.” He pauses, for a moment, his heart in his throat, and tries to convey his devotion. “I can’t spare a thought for Rachel right now, Isabelle. I can’t sit here wondering how different she might be or how much she might have changed. She isn’t my number one priority. She never will be.” Isabelle softens considerably at that, but something flickers in her eyes, something Kurt can’t make out. “What?” he laughs, half-exasperated.

A smile flickers onto Isabelle’s face before she reaches for her sunglasses again, the spark in her eyes evident even behind the lenses. “You’re just… definitely not a kid any more.”

Isabelle’s observation -- her _praise_ , really, because Kurt knows that’s how she means it -- sparks a smile of his own. He dons his sunglasses again and reaches for his fork, holding it out warningly in her direction. “Don’t think that gets you out of buying me dessert.”

* * * * *

Kurt pulls the last of the clothes racks back into the closet, taking care as he goes down the stairs. He slots it into place with the others and moves to the vanity to grab his sketchpad, comparing the new set-up in front of him with his proposed layout on paper. Everything feels so much more functional like this, like he has more room to move and breathe. The new arrangement leaves a few empty spaces that Kurt knows exactly how he wants to fill -- the displays and storage spaces Isabelle had suggested earlier, for one, because more places to put things means he can coerce Isabelle into trying to obtain more clothes and shoes and accessories to fill them with. Kurt’s also hoping he can stretch the budget and put in at least an additional vanity or work station in the closet. He feels like his thriftiness and ability to bargain hunt will be particularly useful with that. Even with those ideas, there’s still enough space to maneuver around and maybe even a little extra space to fill, but Kurt also knows that they’re going to have to bring in some cameras and maybe some sound equipment, and he knows how much more closed off and claustrophobic it will make the space and people in it feel.

“Hi!”

Kurt glances up from his sketchpad, a surprised smile breaking onto his face when he spots Joy hurtling toward him. “Hey!” he laughs, dropping the sketchpad onto the vanity again and kneeling to hoist her into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Joy wiggles in his arms a little and produces a flower Kurt had previously missed, the pink petals tickling his nose. “For you!”

Kurt wrinkles his nose and turns the flower in her direction to boop her nose in kind. “Why thank you,” he hums, pulling her a little closer to press a kiss to her temple. Beyond her, Kurt sees Blaine cross the threshold of the closet, taking the steps with an ease that hasn’t been there in several weeks. In Blaine’s hand is what Kurt presumes is the rest of the bouquet of pink carnations, and Kurt breathes easy against Joy’s skin. “Birthday flowers.”

“I did promise,” Blaine reminds him, leaning in for a brief but still surprisingly warm kiss. “Joy picked them out.”

Kurt smiles down at Joy, affection blooming in his chest when he sees her fingers exploring the texture of the buttons of his vest. She reminds him so _much_ of his mother, sometimes, in her thoughtfulness and preferences and the warmth of her smile. Carnations had been his mother’s favorite, and Kurt remembers picking them out with his father every year for Mother’s Day. The holiday has only recently passed, and when he dips his head to smell the bouquet and take in the fresh fragrance, his mother feels closer to him than she has in a while. “I love them,” he enthuses, turning his attention back to Blaine. “I wasn’t expecting them until I came over tonight, though. Not that you showing up here isn’t a nice surprise, I just --”

“No, I know,” Blaine cuts in, biting his lip apprehensively as Joy’s fingers move to the brooch on Kurt’s vest. Kurt gently plucks her hand from the slightly sharp edges and gestures for Blaine to continue. “It’s just -- it’s nice out today and I’m finally feeling a little better and Joy was starting to go a little stir crazy at home, so we went to the park and then decided to bring you flowers. I know you don’t get off for another couple of hours, but I thought it might be a nice break.”

“More than nice,” Kurt assures him warmly. “But let’s, um, let’s get out of here and away from the expensive clothes and find some water for the flowers,” he laughs.

They barely have time to turn toward the doorway, though, before Isabelle’s passing through it. “Okay, you have twenty minutes before my conference call to -- oh!” It takes a second for recognition to dawn on Isabelle’s face, but once it does, it’s accompanied by a warm, friendly smile. Her eyes are focused on Blaine, first, and Kurt’s stomach sinks before he even looks over at his boyfriend. _It’s not the first time you’ve chosen Isabelle over me_ is suddenly all that Kurt can think about, and it’s ridiculous, considering the efforts he and Blaine are making at bettering themselves and their relationship. But Blaine and Isabelle have never met, and for all that Isabelle clearly still thinks warmly of Blaine, it occurs to Kurt that Blaine may still harbor some resentment toward her. So Kurt bites his lip and watches as Isabelle closes the distance between them and offers out a hand to shake. “You must be Blaine,” she says, perfectly friendly. “This is going to sound really corny and cliche and insincere, but it’s so nice to _finally_ meet you.”

Blaine takes Isabelle’s hand with ease, and while his smile is genuine it’s also a little hesitant, reservation tinging his irises. “Perhaps it’s a little long overdue,” he allows, and it’s such a weird thing to hear come out of Blaine’s mouth -- at least _this_ Blaine, anyway. It’s not exactly passive aggressive, but it feels akin to it in ways that make Kurt uncomfortable. He doesn’t expect Blaine to become best friends with Isabelle or anything, but it’d be nice if there wasn’t any lingering resentment. Kurt knows that Blaine knows working for Isabelle has opened a lot of doors for him -- and will probably continue to, if he’s lucky -- but Kurt doesn’t know if Blaine really _gets_ Kurt’s kinship with Isabelle. Isabelle gave him a home and a safe place to be himself when he first moved to New York, and Blaine had only seen it -- her -- as pulling Kurt away from him. Kurt’s not sure Blaine’s ever really gotten over it, despite how supportive he’s been of Kurt’s work endeavors.

Blaine’s strange reserved behavior doesn’t register with Isabelle, though, if the warmth in her expression is anything to go by. She turns her attention to Joy once Blaine drops her hand, and Isabelle’s eyes practically light up at the sight of her. “And _you_ ,” she says brightly, “must be the famous Joy.”

Kurt ducks his head a little to try and get a read on Joy’s face. “This is my friend Isabelle,” he explains. He’s not at all surprised when Joy nuzzles her face against his neck, suddenly shy. He feels Blaine move next to him, probably to offer to take Joy off of his hands and make her feel more comfortable, but Isabelle speaks before they can have even a silent conversation about it.

“Kurt told me that you like clothes,” Isabelle tries, dropping her voice a little. “We have lots of pretty things here. Would you like to see them?”

The idea of Joy rolling around in the expensive fabrics is simultaneously heart-warming and horrifying, but Blaine cuts in before Kurt can even think about answering. “That’s okay,” Blaine says. “We weren’t planning on staying long. We didn’t want to distract Kurt from his work. We just wanted to drop off some flowers.” Isabelle fixes Kurt with a _look_ , but he glares right back, holding his ground. They’re not revisiting Rachel again today, especially not with Blaine and Joy here. “Come here, sweetheart,” Blaine beckons kindly, reaching out for Joy. Joy looks mildly disappointed, but she lifts her head from Kurt’s chest and prepares herself to be shifted into Blaine’s arms.

“You can take off, if you’d like,” Isabelle offers kindly. “There’s what, two hours left in the work day? All I was going to ask of you was to fill in the blanks for me here, but you can do that on Monday. I won’t force you to sit through the conference call,” she laughs. “We both know how bored you’d be.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks hesitantly, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of taking off early. “It’s really okay, I can stay, or I can come in early on Monday --”

“Birthday privileges,” Isabelle counters, putting the argument to rest. “Go _home_ , Kurt. Enjoy the rest of your birthday.”

Joy stops wiggling in his arms and looks at him very seriously for a three-year-old. “We have cake.”

“Cake?” Kurt gasps dramatically, breaking out into a smile at the way Joy’s face lights up at his antics. “Well then we should leave right away.” He shifts a little, ready to pass Joy off into Blaine’s arms, but Joy squirms until she gets her point across and Kurt sets her on her feet on the floor. “I’ll just, um -- give me a second to grab my things?” he requests, directing the question at Blaine.

There’s something extra warm and affectionate in Blaine’s eyes and his smile, now, and he reaches down a hand to card his fingers through Joy’s curls as she clings to his leg. “We’ll be waiting.”

Kurt tries to make short work of gathering his things from his office -- phone, wallet, keys, glasses, messenger bag. He pauses in the doorway before he leaves, eyes sweeping over the room to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. His fingers are hovering over the lightswitch when his gaze lands on the arrangement of lilies still sitting innocuously on his desk. He feels his throat close up again at the unwelcome reminder of Rachel, and all it takes is a hard swallow for him to make up his mind.

With the lights flicked off, Kurt turns his back on something toxic.

He feels like he can breathe again when he’s standing on the threshold of the closet again, the mere sight of the carnations in Blaine’s arms already making him feel lighter, cleaner. But it’s the look on Blaine’s face that hits all of the right chords with Kurt’s heartstrings, the aching love and affection he has for Joy plain as day. Kurt descends the steps and moves to stand next to Blaine, following Blaine’s gaze to where Isabelle is kneeling down on the floor next to the vanity, Joy perched on the stool. A wet laugh bursts out of Blaine when Isabelle finally turns Joy to face them, and Kurt’s pretty sure his entire face crinkles up with his smile. Isabelle’s taken one of the silk scarves and wrapped it around Joy’s head and neck a la Grace Kelly. “What do you think?” Isabelle prompts, clearly trying not to laugh. “The picture of sophisticated grace?”

A stray curl pops out of the scarf and falls in front of Joy’s eyes, and she puckers her lips and blows airs at it uselessly, clearly annoyed. The action elicits another laugh out of Blaine, so warm and genuine, and with a quick sideways glance, Kurt thinks that Blaine might finally be starting to see Isabelle the way Kurt always has.

Joy works a little magic too, sometimes, Kurt thinks.

“I don’t know that she’s quite ready for her close-up,” Blaine teases, “but it’s a birthday, so we’ll definitely break out the camera and practice.”

Joy starts to tug uncomfortably at the scarf, causing Blaine to take a step toward her to help, but Kurt places a hand on Blaine’s arm in passing. “I got it,” Kurt reassures him, kneeling down in front of Joy to help untangle the scarf. Blaine’s soft _thanks_ lets Kurt knows that his intentions are being understood, that Blaine is accepting the extra help with Joy and all things that require a little extra physical exertion right now. Kurt doesn’t mind, not when he wants to do this, wants to help. He wants to be here for Joy and make sure she’s still comfortable with him, but he also wants to do this for Blaine -- not just to prove a point, but to give Blaine time and space to think and breathe and figure out what he wants to do about his pregnancy. Kurt smiles and tucks the stray curl behind Joy’s ear before turning his attention to Isabelle. “Thank you, again, for lunch and letting me off early,” he says. “I’ll see you Monday?”

Isabelle nods, smile blooming onto her face with ease as she focuses her attention on Joy. “It was nice to meet you,” she says warmly. Joy ducks her head a little but doesn’t speak, so Kurt takes her hand in his and runs his thumb along the back of her hand reassuringly. It takes Joy a minute, but she eventually seems to decide that Isabelle is okay and not a crazy scarf lady. With the fingers of her free hand, Joy picks up the flower she’d been holding when she first arrived and holds it out in silent offering. “Thank you,” Isabelle laughs, taking it from her.

“Oh, you get my flower?” Kurt drawls, teasing.

“You got _two bouquets_ today, birthday boy,” Isabelle reminds him. “You can spare a single flower.”

“Then you can have the lilies,” Kurt retorts, trying very hard not to roll his eyes in front of Joy.

Isabelle arches an eyebrow at him. “You’re not taking them home.”

“ _No_ ,” Kurt says emphatically. “I’ve got a lovely arrangement of carnations to brighten up my day at home,” he points out, smiling at Blaine over his shoulder.

“Kurt, it’s really okay,” Blaine laughs. “I’m sure I can find a second vase somewhere in the apartment if you want to --”

“I’ve already got everything I need,” Kurt assures him, turning his gaze back on Isabelle meaningfully. Isabelle softens and gives him a knowing smile. “I’ll see you Monday,” Kurt says again. He turns his attention back to Joy and wraps an arm around her middle. “Come on, honey,” he beckons warmly, pulling her to him and lifting her into his arms as he rises to his feet. “Let’s go home.”

Blaine exchanges a polite goodbye with Isabelle, though he’s much more warm to her than he was ten minutes ago. He adjusts the bouquet in his arms and picks up his pace briefly to catch up to where Kurt’s waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. It’s Blaine who reaches for Kurt’s hand, in the end, fingers laced together in anchorage. And with Blaine’s hand in his and Joy in his arms, together, Kurt climbs the stairs out of the closet and carries home with him.

* * * * *

As promised, Kurt sings [the song about the stars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54DMWdzROH0). It’d been easier to sing it to Joy, before, just a song he’d pulled out of his repertoire to help her sleep. It’s a little different, tonight, with his dad’s voice still in his ears and cheesecake weighing down his stomach. Kurt is twenty-three and the world is so _different_ than it was when he was nineteen, fifteen, eight. It’s hard not to look back at where he’s been on a day like this, hard not to think about what -- who he’s lost. He thinks of his mother, of Finn, and it’s harder for the words to come out. But he also gets to evaluate where he’s at now, where he’s going, and with the lyrics that fall from his lips and the melody that rises up his vocal chords, Kurt can also think about what -- who he’s gained. A fire lit from a love left behind, burning wild and creeping up the mountainside -- that’s all Blaine, whose eyes are warm and weighted on Kurt as he sings. And the feeling like he could fly -- that’s all Joy, curled up against him on the rocking chair.

It’s taken a little longer to get Joy to fall asleep tonight -- two books and three songs between him and Blaine. Kurt blames the chocolate cheesecake, honestly. But as he closes out the song, he chances a glance down at her and notices her even breathing, her lax fingers, the way her eyelashes fan out across her cheeks like Blaine’s. There’s a familiarity to the warm weight of her against him, and it’s with a pressed kiss to her forehead that Kurt remembers Blaine falling asleep on top of him two weeks ago. Blaine feels safe with him -- they have always felt safe with each other. And Kurt knows that Joy feels safe with Blaine, but he’s starting to wonder if maybe he’s closer to that point with her than they’ve previously thought. Maybe this is more than just comfort.

Maybe this is trust.

As carefully as he can, Kurt pushes himself to his feet and moves Joy to the bed, trying not to wake her. He can feel Blaine’s eyes on him still as he pulls the blankets over her and tucks Margaret Thatcher under her arm, but he’s prevented from looking back when Joy snuffles a little and mumbles. Not fully asleep, then. “Dino,” she murmurs, clearly barely cognizant enough to make the request. Kurt smiles, knowing Blaine will be pleased. The full word has been hard for her to say, for whatever reason, and Kurt knows that the name of her plush, orange dinosaur is designed to help the word feel more familiar on her tongue. He reaches behind her for it and presses a fake dinosaur-kiss to Joy’s nose before propping it up on the pillow next to her.

He straightens and stretches a little before he turns to make his way out of the room, reaching for the doorknob to shut the door behind him. Blaine places a palm flat against the door to stop him, though, silently beckoning Kurt to come stand behind him. Kurt obliges, watching Blaine watch Joy for a moment and smiling at the way Blaine’s eyes are laden with an affectionate and aching warmth. Kurt leans in close and hooks a chin over Blaine’s shoulder, bolstered when Blaine reaches for his hand and tangles their fingers together. “You’re sure,” Blaine says softly, and this time it’s not a question.

Kurt turns his head slightly and presses his lips to Blaine’s ear. “I’m sure.”

Blaine tightens his grip on Kurt’s hand and waits a second before he tugs Kurt a little closer, dragging their hands to rest gently over his lower abdomen. Kurt inhales sharply and holds his breath, waiting, but Blaine doesn’t let them linger. He drops Kurt’s hand after a moment and nods in the direction of the light switch, reaching for the doorknob himself. Kurt flicks the switch, the light from the lamp swallowed up in darkness for a second before the small beacon of light from the nightlight takes over. Blaine shuts the door after him and still, he doesn’t linger in the hallway, moving instead down the hall to the bedroom.

Kurt follows him because that’s what he’s always done, ever since he was seventeen and behind enemy lines.

This is his choice, now -- then, always.

Blaine sinks down comfortably onto the bed and leans against the pillows propped against the headboard. He holds out a hand in offering and smiles, and he looks decidedly older than seventeen. Kurt crawls up onto the mattress next to him, taking Blaine’s outstretched hand and pressing their legs together. There’s no hesitation, this time, as Blaine moves their hands back over his abdomen, their weight a little heavier than before. A beat to breathe, and then Blaine says, voice absolutely even, “I want to do this.”

Fire sparks behind Kurt’s eyes, but he tries to tamp it down, tries to keep it from catching ablaze. “ _You’re_ sure?” Kurt asks, because this definitely is a question, something he needs to be sure of. “I just -- I want to make sure that you’re not just making this decision because I told you I wanted this. I want you to want it, too.”

“I just told you that I do,” Blaine laughs, easy and unaffected. “Do you not believe me?”

Kurt shifts uncomfortably next to him, eyes falling to where their hands are resting over Blaine’s abdomen. He doesn’t pull his hand away, needing the anchor to keep himself present. “It’s not that,” he says slowly, trying to figure out how to articulate his hesitation. “It’s just… not exactly the answer I was originally expecting from you, I think. I mean, I think my expectations changed, although I’m not sure if they changed into anything concrete, actually. But you kept -- you kept talking about feeling overwhelmed and how bad the timing was and I know you said that you hadn’t made up your mind earlier this week --”

He’s cut off by the warm but firm press of Blaine’s lips against his own, kiss leaving him breathless. “Relax,” Blaine murmurs, stroking Kurt’s cheek with his thumb. “You’re not even the one who’s pregnant here.” Kurt feels his cheeks flush with heat, and he ducks his head away out of Blaine’s hold to look at him properly again. But Blaine must still be able to sense that Kurt is still a little tense and anxious, so he moves their hands away from his abdomen and sits up a little bit, angling himself so that he’s able to face Kurt head on. “The timing _isn’t_ great,” Blaine agrees. “It’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about a lot since we found out. It’d be a lot more convenient if we waited until I was done with school and we were both financially independent and our family was more of a cohesive unit than it is right now.”

And that stings, a little, the reminder that Joy still doesn’t know he’s her father, too. But it’s only been a few weeks since he’s been back, Kurt reminds himself, and he can’t expect his happy endings without a little time and effort. He swallows his pride and his longing and tries to focus on the issue at hand. “I don’t disagree,” Kurt says carefully. “Having a baby would be a lot easier if all of those pieces were in place.”

“But,” Blaine continues, clearly going somewhere with all of this, “thinking about it like that also made me think about what it was like when I was trying to tell you the truth about Joy. And for a while, there was a part of me that was waiting for the pieces to fall into place. I wanted good timing. My dad had to remind me that there’s no such thing as perfect timing.”

Kurt laughs dryly. “There really isn’t.”

There’s something warm and knowing in Blaine’s answering smile, like he feels like Kurt’s starting to understand where he’s coming from, like they’re getting back on the same page. “That’s… sort of my point,” Blaine explains. “I tried factoring in better timing into this whole equation. I thought -- I know this is a stupid thing to do, but I had to consider the options and alternatives. I thought about the what ifs. What if we decided not to go through with this pregnancy in favor of better timing later on? And what if we waited and waited and waited for all of the pieces to fall into place and then we never end up having another baby at all? Or if we do, what if our kids are really far apart in age?” Kurt tries ignores the way his stomach flips at _our kids_. It’s a wonderful thought, but they’re hashing out the when, first. They haven’t gotten to the why, yet. “I don’t want that,” Blaine admits quietly, dropping his eyes to where their hands are still anchored together. “Cooper and I are a decade apart. It made growing up really, really hard at times. I haven’t always felt like I had a real brother. It’s gotten better, with time, but as a kid, it really sucked. I don’t want that for our kids, Kurt. Joy’s already three. I don’t think I’m comfortable with an age gap of more than five or six years. Even if we waited, to me, it doesn’t feel like there’s all that much time left if we want to have another baby.”

The long-winded explanation and confession is enough of a cue for Kurt to know that it’s his turn to kiss Blaine to quell the uncomfortable nerves and anxieties. He’s a little gentler with his kiss but just as warm, and he knows the gesture is appreciated by the way Blaine sort of nuzzles his face against his own before pulling away. “I don’t, um --” Kurt stops and takes a second to swallow, and not for the first time tonight, he thinks of Finn. “Finn and I were practically the same age. We became family as teenagers. He died before either of us turned twenty. It doesn’t -- it didn’t make him any less my brother, but it was just different for me. I didn’t grow up with him, not the way you did with Cooper. I don’t have that experience.” Just getting the small set of words out is enough to make Kurt feel uncomfortably adrift, and he reaches for Blaine’s other hand to anchor himself a little more. “But all of that, the stuff about the timing -- that’s more about Joy than it is about you. You’re thinking about her, and I get it, I really do. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

Blaine’s mouth twists into a guilty smile. “But?”

A deep breath in, and Kurt takes the leap. “Two weeks ago, you asked me to explain why I wanted us to have a baby,” he reminds Blaine. “ _This_ baby. I’m not saying that I don’t believe you when you say that this is what you want, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to justify your feelings to me. I just --”

“-- want to understand them,” Blaine supplies for him knowingly. He takes a second, eyes a little distant like he’s trying to collect his thoughts. “Two weeks ago, you said that you’d missed out on a lot.” He bites his lip and looks back up at Kurt, and there’s something in Blaine’s expression that looks… not guilty, but Kurt’s not entirely sure what he’d deem it. “You’re not the only one,” Blaine says, almost like a confession, and at Kurt’s confused expression, Blaine hastens to explain. “I told you that I was in a dark place when I was pregnant with Joy.”

Kurt nods in recognition. “You said you had to disassociate so you wouldn’t get attached.”

“Exactly,” Blaine sighs. “There was nothing -- I -couldn’t --” He stops again, lets out a slightly frustrated noise, but Kurt doesn’t interrupt. He adjusts their grasp, gives Blaine a reminder that he’s here and he’s listening, gives Blaine the extra minute or two to figure out how to express what he’s feeling, to use his voice. It’s enough -- Blaine adjusts their position so that they’re sitting side by side again, and he finds comfort in resting his head against Kurt’s shoulder, their hands still joined. “I told you that this was all I wanted, before,” he breathes. “All I wanted was you with me. And I have that -- _you_ \-- now.”

“You do,” Kurt promises warmly.

“Everything about this is so different than the last time,” Blaine says, and he sounds… not young, but quiet, vulnerable. “It’s not just the fact that you’re here or even how it’s happening. It’s that I feel like the options are different. How I’m thinking about it is different. How I _feel_ about it is different. _I’m_ different.”

“Tell me how,” Kurt prompts, because he _knows_ Blaine, and Kurt knows that sometimes he has to pull the words out of Blaine sometimes.

“I just felt really… alone, back then,” Blaine confesses, voice still quiet. “I told you I wanted to hide -- I _did_ hide. I isolated myself from other people, from anything good I could’ve felt while I was pregnant. I wasn’t happy, Kurt. I couldn’t be.”

Something twists inside of Kurt’s chest, briefly, but it unfurls and warms him all the way up to his eyes, the fire sparking again. He takes a beat to breathe before asking, “And are you happy, now?”

Blaine shifts his head to look up at Kurt and smiles. “I am,” he says, voice warmer. “For all that things are a little weird right now and the timing is so not ideal, I’m actually really, really happy.” He pauses and sits back up all the way, making sure his grip on Kurt’s hands is secure. “That’s actually kind of how I’m looking at this now,” he explains. “It’s -- I mean, it’s at least an opportunity for me to be happy. And I _want_ to be, Kurt. I want to be happy about this. I want to take advantage of the fact that this could happen the way we’d always talked about. We had all of these _plans_ , when we were together in high school. And almost absolutely nothing has gone according to plan,” he laughs.

“This isn’t exactly according to plan, either,” Kurt points out, but he’s smiling.

“Not exactly,” Blaine allows, matching Kurt’s smile with his own, “but it’s sort of an… altered version of what we’d wanted, back then. And I still want a lot of that. I still want a life with you, and I still want a family. And it’d be really, really nice if I could be happy about being pregnant and expanding our family, even if the timing is inconvenient.”

Kurt’s heart skips a beat, the fire behind his eyes dying to consume him. He finds such comfort in knowing that they’ve both carried a torch for each other all these years, that the bond (the love) between them hasn’t flickered and dimmed and died. And it’s not lost on him, then, that there is more to the discussion about timing than they’re actually saying. He smiles, swallows and ducks his head and says, “This, um -- I wasn’t exactly expecting a birthday gift like this,” he admits, flicking his eyes back up to gauge Blaine’s reaction. “Was there a reason you -- is that why you decided to tell me all of this tonight?”

“It’s not really a gift,” Blaine says, a little awkward. “Not that I think you think about me that way or anything. I know you don’t. It’s just -- seeing you with Joy today helped me feel safe enough to make a decision I was already leaning toward.”

Kurt can’t help beaming, but the lift in his mood and features is mingled with a little bewilderment. “I haven’t really been doing anything different.”

“I know,” Blaine says, back to sounding warm again. “That’s… kind of my point. It’s -- before you even knew that she was your daughter, you were getting really good with her. And I thought that you could be a parent to her, but I think it’s like I -- I really _believe_ it now, you know? You’re trying _so hard_ , Kurt, and I see that, but it seems almost effortless for you, sometimes. Like today -- you were so attuned to her mannerism and needs and were aware of all of my safety concerns and her comfort levels around Isabelle. And I just --” He stops, breathless, and there’s such an _earnest_ quality to his eyes that Kurt can hardly breathe. “You can _do this_ ,” Blaine says emphatically, moving their hands back down to his lower abdomen with purpose. “We can do this. We _want_ to do this.”

“So we’re doing this,” Kurt breathes, unable to help the smile that shakily makes its way onto his face. “We’re -- we’re having a baby.”

Blaine smiles and lets out a burst of quiet laughter. “Yeah, we are.”

Kurt takes a deep breath and tries to let the reality of it settle into his bones, moving their hands away from Blaine’s abdomen. “Okay, um, this is -- what now?” he asks, a little awkwardly. “I mean, what next?”

It’s Blaine’s turn to take a deep breath, now, but he seems a little more relaxed than Kurt feels, hands toying with Kurt’s idly. “I try to find a good OB in the city,” Blaine explains. “We make an appointment, figure out how far along I am, make sure everything’s okay.” He hesitates, then, pausing in his movements, and he doesn’t quite meet Kurt’s eyes when he says, “I’m not -- I don’t want to say anything to our families or anyone else until at least after the first appointment.”

“I’m not… going to argue with you,” Kurt says, carefully at first but laughing after a beat. “That makes plenty of sense.”

Blaine’s hands relax in his a little, and he meets Kurt’s eyes again with ease, smile friendly. “Okay, good, that’s -- um, I’m sorry,” he laughs, a little awkward but in much better spirits. “I didn’t mean to detract from all of the birthday celebrations with this. I just -- I finally figured out what I wanted and needed to get it off of my chest and make sure you knew.”

The significance of that is not lost on Kurt, not at _all_ , and it takes everything in him not throw himself at Blaine. He makes his move slowly, instead, steady and calculated and so, so sure. Gently, he manages to maneuver them into lying on the bed together and curls up against Blaine’s side. He’s deliberate in his movements, slow moving his hand and taking care to make sure that Blaine is comfortable with what he’s doing before he pushes up the hem of Blaine’s shirt with his fingers. Blaine’s breath hitches a little when Kurt drags his fingertips along the softness of his belly, no growth evident just yet, but Blaine’s little nod of approval tells Kurt that it’s okay -- welcome, even. “I know,” he says, and he knows that Blaine understands what he really means. “And I know that this isn’t a gift -- it’s not you giving me something I want just to make me happy. But for what it’s worth, Blaine? I’m kind of terrified, but I’m really, really happy, too.” His fingers pause in their movements at Blaine’s answering smile, prompting Kurt to lean in and capture it in a warm kiss. “And _this_ is something worth celebrating, too.”


	15. Chapter 15

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Given how much Blaine’s life has changed over the course of the last several years -- how much _he_ has changed -- it shouldn’t be a truth that he buys into, but every experience and relationship has given him reason to over and over again. He is very much a different person than he was four years ago, but there is so much about him that is still the same. His relationship with Kurt exemplifies that, because while there’s still enough of who they were and how they felt left for them to pick up where they left off, there’s enough about them and their relationship that’s changed for them to move forward, to change together. Where they’d tried and failed before, they’re succeeding now, but they are still _them_.

A month ago, Blaine had realized that he’d been more afraid of change than he’d realized -- or at least, certain types of change, or rather, the lack of control surrounding them. He doesn’t feel like that at _all_ now. The timing isn’t ideal and there’s still so much change in front of them that they’ve yet to deal with, but the choice to go through with this pregnancy and expand their family has given Blaine a strange sense of calm and control.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror alone, Blaine takes a moment for himself to turn to the side and survey his reflection. Even with the looseness of his sleep shirt, the swell of his stomach is more evident than it was even a week ago. He’s definitely popped within the last week, the change sudden and a little surprising, but it’d been one that was beneficial at his appointment this afternoon. There’s absolutely no room for doubt that he’s pregnant now -- not that there had been, before. But the change is a prominent reminder that there’s a baby (a fetus, technically) growing inside of him again, and while acceptance has long since been stretched and etched into his skin, it feels different this time. He’s always sort of rolled with the punches that change brings him. It’s what he’d done when he was pregnant with Joy. Things aren’t that different, now, but the way he _feels_ about it is.

This is his choice -- a choice for _himself_ , for them and their family -- and Blaine feels comfortable in every inch of his skin.

And judging from the taut swell of his belly, however small it might be, so is the twelve-week fetus he’s carrying. With a content smile, Blaine rubs a gentle hand over his belly before stretching and turning off the bathroom light.

Blaine lingers in the doorway as Kurt passes by in the hall, chest bare and hairspray starting to lose some of its hold. Blaine swallows thickly at the sight of him, unable to help the throbbing ache between his legs. And oh, this is new, the desire fueled by the fluctuation of hormones in his system. He’d been so depressed and detached during his last pregnancy that he hadn’t really noticed or given much thought to any changes in his libido. But he can’t ignore it now, not when Kurt is here and half-naked and they haven’t had sex in a month. Blaine grips the door frame hard, watching as Kurt arranges the sleep shirt in his hand and tugs it on. “Hey,” Kurt says warmly, a smile blossoming onto his face as he finally notices Blaine in the doorway. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to join me?”

“Just… admiring the view,” Blaine admits quietly, but he lets go of the door frame and follows Kurt out into the living room.

“I was going to stay up and read for a little bit,” Kurt says, settling onto the couch. “Will that bother you?”

Blaine shakes his head as he sinks down on the couch and curls up against Kurt’s side. “I’m not actually all that tired. My basis for comparison is a little skewed, but the second trimester is supposed to be easier to deal with, health-wise.”

Kurt smiles a little wider and leans in for a sweet kiss that’s entirely too brief for Blaine’s liking. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he says, reaching for Blaine’s hand.

“Having some help with Joy is helping me,” Blaine admits with a sigh.

“Oh!” Kurt says, sitting up a little. “Speaking of help, there was something I wanted to mention. When we got back from the appointment earlier, Chloe reminded us that she and Meredith are going to be gone all summer.”

“Yeah, I know,” Blaine groans, rubbing at his eyes. “I still need to look into replacements.”

“Actually,” Kurt ventures, recapturing Blaine’s attention, “I’ve been meaning to pass along some information I got from Isabelle last week. I can add our kids to my work insurance, and there’s a daycare center on the second floor of our building that we could use to our advantage.”

“Oh, okay, that’s, um --” Blaine stops and shakes his head a little, trying to clear his mind. The logistics of something like this are a lot to think about, but they’re not something he wants to think about this late on a Friday night, particularly not when he’s this… distracted. Kurt’s been holding his hand for a grand total of a minute and a half but it’s _electrifying_ right now, sparks shooting up Blaine’s arm and making his heart beat a little faster. Sometimes the touch of fingertips _is_ as sexy as it gets, and Blaine’s brain is suddenly flooded with images of intimacy -- his hands gripping Kurt’s bare skin, Kurt’s fingertips brushing along the marks on Blaine’s skin, a shared shallow breath, the tight tuck of legs wrapped around each other --

“Blaine?”

“Sorry,” Blaine breathes, inhaling sharply and trying to focus. He lifts his gaze to meet Kurt’s eyes and very deliberately doesn’t let himself look at Kurt’s lips. “I, um, I just need some time to think about it? I’d have to talk to my parents about the insurance thing, anyway, and I’d want some more information on the daycare center.”

“I can look into it,” Kurt offers amicably. “But if everything works out, we should try and get the ball rolling on it sooner rather than later. I think there are a bunch of requirements to meet and paperwork to fill out and then a processing period or something, so it’ll take a while for everything to go through and fall into place.”

“Okay,” Blaine agrees, relaxing into a smile and filing the discussion away to revisit later. Kurt squeezes his hand briefly before letting go, leaving Blaine’s hand tingling in his wake. Blaine flexes his fingers and tries to keep his desire at bay, watching Kurt reach for a book on the coffee table and settle in comfortably against a throw pillow. Blaine leans against him again but doesn’t curl in too close, willing his body to calm and relax enough to sleep. Ordinarily, Blaine wouldn’t mind just curling up next to Kurt and watching him read before they head to bed, but everything about it is just spurning Blaine’s arousal right now. It’s kind of torturous to try and let Kurt read right now when all Blaine can focus on is the way Kurt wets his lips or the bob of his Adam’s apple or the tempting slopes and curves of the muscles in his arms. Toes curled, Blaine clears his throat and just barely manages to stop oogling. “What, um -- what are you reading?”

“I picked up a couple of books on pregnancy and parenting earlier this week,” Kurt explains, not tearing his gaze from the pages in front of him. “Now that we know how far along you are, I wanted to see what to expect or what I could help with -- _wait, that’s a thing?_ ” he murmurs, clearly more focused on the text than answering Blaine’s inquiry.

Blaine chuckles a little, nose wrinkling in amusement. “You know I’ve been through this before, right?” he reminds Kurt dryly. “You can just ask me anything you want to know. You don’t have to take it upon yourself to do mountains of research or anything.”

Kurt reaches for a small, rectangular piece of paper tucked in the back of the book and uses it to bookmark his place before looking over at Blaine. “I know you have experience with all of this,” Kurt says, sounding hesitant, “but it’s not going to be exactly the same.”

“True,” Blaine allows. “I’m just -- you can read up on whatever you want, Kurt. I just don’t think it’s totally necessary.”

“It just… makes me feel better, okay?” Kurt breathes, sounding marginally frustrated.

“Okay,” Blaine says, backing off. He’s not actually all that bothered by Kurt’s efforts, anyway. He’s a little amused, sure, but he’s also kind of appreciative and a lot touched. Blaine knows that all of this must feel really foreign to him, but Kurt is trying so _hard_. Blaine loves that Kurt cares enough to put in the effort, but he also wants Kurt to enjoy this the way they’ve both said they want to. Blaine knows how easy it is to spiral into worry under the power of suggestion.

Kurt’s attention is back on the book, though he’s obviously a little more tense than before. Blaine scoots in a little closer in the hopes that the proximity will help Kurt relax a little. He’s not quite close enough to read the text on the pages, but he can see the bookmark that Kurt’s using covering the opposite page. Blaine’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that it’s a copy of the sonogram from today’s ultrasound, the profile and slope of the nose of the fetus just discernable enough. Kurt’s reaction had been a little more visceral than Blaine had been expecting -- eyes warm and wet, breathing shallow. But Kurt being at a loss for words wasn’t all that surprising because Blaine knows what the first ultrasound had felt like for him, before. There’s something about seeing their child in black and white that makes the pregnancy that much more _real_ , even though Blaine’s body has been informing him of it for weeks, now.

Now, Kurt is carrying a tangible reminder around with him, tucked away in pages he’s seeking advice and comfort in. Kurt is trying so hard, is so ready and willing to settle into the role of being a parent -- a _father_. Kurt isn’t stepping into the role because he has to. He’s doing it because he _wants_ to, because Kurt has never done anything less than embrace the various pieces that make him up and wear them with pride. For all that it might be a little awkward and difficult and trying at times, this is still Kurt in every inch of his skin, and it’s not lost on Blaine that he has a thing for Kurt being a father, too.

This is Blaine in every inch of his skin, and he wants Kurt to make it come alive.

Heart pumping longing through his veins, Blaine curls in even closer, encouraged when Kurt relaxes a little and wraps an arm around Blaine’s shoulders. Bolstered, Blaine arches his head up a little and presses a buzzing kiss to the column of Kurt’s throat. He’s rewarded with a pleased sounding hum vibrating up Kurt’s throat, and Blaine only waits a beat before leaning in to press a second kiss to Kurt’s skin, and then a third, and another, and another. It’s enough to get Kurt to inhale sharply, fingers spasming atop his current page. “Blaine,” he protests breathily. “I’m trying to read -- _oh_ ,” he moans quietly, exposing his neck a little more as Blaine’s mouth latches onto a spot just beneath Kurt’s ear. “Unfair,” Kurt protests weakly, finally managing to pull his neck away from Blaine’s mouth. He fixes Blaine with the most unconvincing glare Blaine’s ever seen, cheeks flushed and arousal evident in his eyes. “You know that’s my weak spot.”

Blaine exhales a little breathlessly, ready to give into the desire that’s making his pussy wet and his clit absolutely throb with need. He props himself up a little and leans in even closer, lips ghosting over Kurt’s. “Yeah,” he breathes, “I do.” Kurt’s eyes start to flutter shut in anticipation of Blaine’s lips on his, but Blaine’s lips detour and trace a line of kisses along Kurt’s jaw. He hesitates just shy of the spot below Kurt’s ear again, delighting in the way Kurt’s breath catches and holds. Blaine takes advantage of Kurt’s focused distraction to slip his hand beneath the book resting on Kurt’s lap and rub the heel of his palm over Kurt’s half-hard cock in his pajama pants. Kurt’s hips buck up into Blaine’s hand, jostling the book in his hand and disrupting them enough to pull back a little to look at each other.

Deliberately, Blaine closes the book, taking care not to bend or disrupt the sonogram nestled between the pages. The resulting _thump_ as the book falls shut isn’t all that loud, but it’s startling enough to cause Kurt’s breath to catch again. Quickly, Blaine takes the cue and moves the book to the coffee table. He doesn’t hesitate as he straddles Kurt’s waist, doesn’t think twice about anchoring a hand on either side of Kurt’s face and kissing him breathless. Kurt’s muffled noise of surprise quickly turns into a whimper, one that Blaine echos when Kurt’s hands run up along Blaine’s thighs. One of Kurt’s hands lingers on Blaine’s ass, squeezing lightly to bring them closer together and _fuck_ , the friction feels so good against Blaine’s clit, even through layers of fabric. Kurt’s other hand sneaks up past the hem of Blaine’s sleep shirt, nails dragging lightly against the skin of Blaine’s back. Another whimper and Blaine’s hips shift down, chasing the feeling of arousal fueled by Kurt’s touch.

Kurt’s hand is at Blaine’s waist, sudden and gripping hard, stilling Blaine’s movement. Blaine allows him to break the kiss but doesn’t pull away, exhaling shakily as his fingertips dance over Kurt’s collarbone. Kurt’s breath comes out all at once, not quite masking a laugh. “Not that I’m complaining,” Kurt says, voice sounding a little rough, “but, um, we should probably take this in the bedroom if this is going where I think it’s going.”

Blaine bites back a smile at the forethought, but still he lingers, just for an extra moment. His lips trace a path along Kurt’s jaw again, lightly kissing his way up to the spot just beneath Kurt’s ear. “Responsibility looks good on you,” Blaine murmurs.

“ _Bedroom_ ,” Kurt insists through a gasp. Grinning, Blaine pulls away and untangles himself from around Kurt, pushing himself to his feet. Kurt takes Blaine’s proffered hand, and together, they make their way into the bedroom.

The door has barely clicked shut before Kurt is pressing Blaine against it and kissing him soundly, fingers itching up under the hem of Blaine’s shirt again. Blaine moves to mirror him, breaking the kiss briefly to help tug Kurt’s shirt up over his head. Blaine smiles as he lets the shirt drop to the floor, pulling Kurt close again. “Told you I was admiring the view.”

“I gathered,” Kurt quips, matching Blaine’s smile. He leans in for another kiss, softer and slower this time, and even though Kurt’s fingers are brushing against the skin exposed at the bottom of Blaine’s shirt, he doesn’t make any attempts to remove it. Kurt’s quiet for a moment after he breaks the kiss, forehead resting gently against Blaine’s. It takes Blaine that moment to realize that Kurt’s fingers are following the slightly sloping curve of his belly. “You’re, um, you’re sure you’re up for this?”

“It’s been a month,” Blaine reminds him, arching into Kurt’s touch.

“That… doesn’t answer my question,” Kurt points out.

Blaine huffs out a sigh and pulls away a little, tugging his own shirt up over his head and dropping it on the floor next to Kurt’s. “Does that?”

It’s enough for Kurt to smile and pull Blaine back in for another kiss, and it’s all Blaine needs to know that Kurt has missed this just as much as Blaine has. There’s so much more skin touching now, chests pressed against each other, hands gripping each others’ sides and backs and arms. Blaine can’t help smiling into their kisses as Kurt leads him over to the bed. His knees hit the back of the bed, startling him into finding a way to both keep his balance and lower them onto it. He loops his arms around Kurt’s neck to keep them close, tugging a little to try and get Kurt to follow his lead down. Their feet knock awkwardly together as Kurt tries to go with his pull, and it’s only when Blaine is halfway down and almost sliding to the floor that Kurt alters course and catches Blaine before he falls. “Hang on,” Kurt laughs against his lips, trying to right them again. “We’re going to end up on the floor.”

“That hasn’t exactly been a problem before,” Blaine teases, but he goes with Kurt’s pull and stands upright again.

Kurt pulls back enough to rest a hand over the slight swell of Blaine’s belly. “That’s how this happened, remember?”

Blaine rolls his eyes, but he lays a hand over Kurt’s, his clit spiking with arousal at the gesture. “This happened because we didn’t use protection,” Blaine argues without heat. “The fact that it happened on the floor is entirely coincidental. Now,” he says, dropping his voice a little as he moves his free hand over the rather obvious bulge of Kurt’s cock in his pajama pants, “may we continue?”

Kurt gasps at the touch, resting his head against Blaine’s shoulder. His nod of approval is barely there, but the way his breathing has grown shallow and he keeps bucking into Blaine’s hand leaves no room for doubt. Encouraged, Blaine drops a kiss to Kurt’s shoulder and awkwardly maneuvers his hands to tug Kurt’s pajama pants and boxer briefs down. Kurt barely moves enough to step out of them, pressing in close and nuzzling his face against Blaine’s neck. Blaine grabs at Kurt’s ass to keep him close, loving the way it feels under his hands. Blaine can feel his arousal all the way in the tendons of his hands, and his underwear grows almost uncomfortably wet when he feels Kurt’s cock pressed against him again, long and hard.

It’s Blaine turn to gasp, now, desire flooding his veins. He pulls away just enough to turn them around, silently prompting Kurt to sit on the edge of the bed. Kurt rests back on his elbows, gaze heated as he watches Blaine sink to his knees and situate himself between Kurt’s legs. And again, Blaine doesn’t hesitate as he sinks his mouth down over Kurt’s cock, taking his time to work his way down the length. With a quick glance upward, Blaine can see Kurt toss his head back and groan, and it’s all the encouragement Blaine needs to focus his attention back on Kurt’s cock and keep going. He runs a hand up Kurt’s thigh, delighting in the way Kurt shivers under his touch. The weight of Kurt’s cock in his mouth is enough to make Blaine soak through his underwear, but he doesn’t let up, keeps moving until his lips reach the base of Kurt’s cock and the head tickles the back of his throat. And still, it only spurs Blaine’s arousal. He wants to touch Kurt _everywhere_ , wants to be touched, wants to move with him. Fingers tingling again, Blaine moves his free hand down to cup Kurt’s balls in his hand.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes, moaning softly. His hand comes to rest on the back of Blaine’s neck, falling forward slowly until his thumb is caressing Blaine’s hollowed cheek. Blaine flicks his gaze back up, watches the unsteady heave of Kurt’s chest as he fights to keep his breathing even. It takes Blaine a second to realize that Kurt is trying to guide Blaine off of his cock. Blaine obliges, loving the slow, slick drag of his lips around the girth of Kurt’s cock on his way up. Kurt looks absolutely _wrecked_ once Blaine’s mouth is off of him, cheeks flushed and hand trembling slightly against Blaine’s cheek. “It’s been a month,” Kurt reminds him, voice sounding scratchy and constricted.

All at once, Blaine remembers his fantasy from earlier, the mental image enough to make him lick his lips and swallow thickly. With a nod of understanding and a quick kiss to Kurt’s palm, Blaine pulls away and hooks his fingers in the waistband of his underwear and pajama pants. “Scoot back,” he requests, tugging the rest of his clothes off as he pushes himself to his feet. “There,” he indicates once Kurt’s made it halfway up the bed, legs sprawling out in front of him. “That’s… perfect,” Blaine sighs, crawling up onto the bed to meet Kurt in the center. Blaine maneuvers himself onto Kurt’s lap and straddles him again, his movements a little awkward as he tries to wrap his legs around Kurt. It takes Kurt a few seconds to catch on, but once he does, he helps support Blaine’s weight and position Blaine’s pussy over his cock. The head of Kurt’s cock catches along Blaine’s wet folds before Blaine sinks all the way down, groaning as Kurt’s cock stretches him open. Kurt bites down on Blaine’s shoulder once Blaine’s fully seated, exhaling harshly and anchoring his hands on Blaine’s back, palms broad and warm against Blaine’s skin.

Blaine feels the slight sting once Kurt stops biting down on his shoulder. “Just… give me a minute,” Kurt requests, lips grazing gently over the skin he’s just bitten. He reaches around Blaine for the sheet and comforter, his cock pressing in a little more and creating a teasing pressure and friction. Blaine inhales sharply even after Kurt’s pulled back and is arranging the sheet and comforter in a tangled mess around them. It takes Blaine a minute to realize that Kurt’s trying to cover up anything...indecent, and his continued awareness is so beyond attractive right now. And not for the first time tonight, Kurt’s hand finds its way to the swell of Blaine’s stomach, his eyes full of warmth and concern. “You okay?”

It occurs to Blaine, then, that this is the first time he’s having sex _knowing_ that he’s pregnant. And yeah, the small protrusion of his belly makes it a little awkward, particularly in this position, but it’s barely noticeable. This baby is a part of him right now, and more than anything, Blaine wants to enjoy what his body -- what _he_ is doing.

He wants to embrace change. He wants to be happy. He _chooses_ to be happy.

Blaine answers Kurt with a kiss instead of words, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of Kurt’s neck. He lifts himself up on Kurt’s cock just enough to create a delicious, dragging friction before he sinks back down. The movement spurs Kurt into the action Blaine has been craving all evening, and it’s with a stifled groan and a hard kiss in return that Kurt’s hands move to Blaine’s back again, searching for purchase and helping Blaine move. Blaine knows this position isn’t going to work for him once he reaches a certain point in his pregnancy, but right now it’s doing _wonders_ for him. It doesn’t give him the friction and pressure he needs on his clit, but there’s something about this position that feels particularly… sensual. He gets _lost_ in it -- the slow, steady undulation of his hips as he works himself down onto Kurt’s cock; the soft, scattered skimming of Kurt’s hands against his skin; the fact that Kurt is following _his_ lead, this time; the wet warmth of Kurt’s mouth enveloping his own. It’s all wonderful and easy to get lost in, but it’s too slow, not enough, and a tightness builds in Blaine’s chest until he has to wrench his mouth away and gasp for air, longing for more.

Kurt grips Blaine’s back a little harder, his own breathing labored. His hold on Blaine affords him the ability to help support Blaine’s weight and enables Blaine to move faster. Blaine anchors his hands on Kurt’s shoulders for balance and purchase and picks up the pace, reveling in the increased friction in his pussy and the way the skin of Kurt’s hands catch against Blaine’s back. Once Blaine finds his new rhythm, Kurt pivots his hips up to meet him. And fuck, if that doesn’t feel good, the additional pressure causing Blaine to arch his body closer to Kurt’s, hips working a little harder and faster. Kurt lets out a breathless, whimpered moan and tries to match Blaine’s pace again, hips working furiously underneath Blaine’s weight. Fingers curl up around the back of Blaine’s shoulder, Kurt’s forehead rests heavily against Blaine’s collarbone and that’s all the warning Blaine gets before Kurt stills underneath him and comes, jaw dropped and breath held.

Legs wrapped around Kurt and skin practically vibrating with need, Blaine forces himself to stay still and reminds himself that it’s been a month since they’ve had sex. Kurt coming this quickly isn’t all that surprising, particularly given his earlier warning. Blaine knows he’ll get his own orgasm soon enough, somehow, and what he’s gotten out of all of this so far tonight is more than appreciated. The position’s still a little awkward, particularly given how sore Blaine’s muscles are becoming and the sticky addition of Kurt’s come threatening to slide out of him. But it’s also really, really _nice_. He relaxes his grip on Kurt’s shoulders and tries to catch his breath, taking note of the way Kurt’s arms are wrapped around him and holding him close, face pressed against Blaine’s chest. Blaine moves his hands from Kurt’s shoulders and rubs soothingly at Kurt’s neck instead, embracing the suspended intimacy as Kurt shudders and comes down.

It takes a minute for Kurt to finally lift his head from Blaine’s chest, eyes heavy and lidded but still somehow affectionate. Kurt leans in and presses a lazy kiss to Blaine’s lips before pulling away, a sleepy, satisfied smile on his face. He takes a deep, measured breath and releases his hold on Blaine, leaning back and resting his weight on his hands. Blaine offers him an awkward half-smile and takes the cue, untangling himself from around Kurt and lifting himself up off of Kurt’s cock. Blaine misses him immediately, even with the remnants of come left behind, and it’s with a barely contained sigh that he reclines until his back hits the mattress. He wants so _much_ that he feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin. He wants an orgasm, obviously, but he wants so much _more_ than that. He wants Kurt, wants their bodies close again, wants to stretch into his growing skin until the buzzing edge finally subsides.

Eyes trained on the ceiling, Blaine feels Kurt moving away from him on the mattress, digging around in the nightstand drawer for what Blaine is assuming is something they can use to clean up. This time it’s Blaine who takes the measured breath in an effort not to crack and break out of his skin, and he waits a minute before dancing his fingertips down his torso. His mouth twitches into a small smile as his fingers follow the new curve on his lower abdomen, and his breath catches a little as he approaches his clit, needing at least minimal stimulation to keep his interest and arousal peaked until Kurt’s ready to return the favor. He starts a little when Kurt bats his hand away and moves between his legs, body hovering over Blaine’s, eyes sparkling.

The bullet vibrator is on Blaine’s clit before he can even so much as blink, and even though it’s focused on his labia and not his clit, the sensation is still enough of a strong surprise that Blaine gasps, back arching up off of the bed a little. Kurt drags the vibrator up and down Blaine’s labia a few times, the brief, repeated motion enough to bring Blaine’s arousal back up to where it was before Kurt came. And Kurt can tell, because Kurt _knows_ him, knows Blaine’s body even though it’s different and it’s changing. So Kurt shifts the vibrator up to Blaine’s clit, tracing a few slow, lazy circles around its edges. Blaine gasps out a barely-there moan, breath caught in his chest as he feels an orgasm rapidly build. Kurt grins and leans in even closer, pressing the vibrator up against the underside of Blaine’s clit. Blaine closes his eyes and curls his shoulders inward, muscles tight and locked as he gets close, close, closer. Kurt presses the vibrator against Blaine’s clit a little more firmly, his lips barely touching Blaine’s. And that’s all it takes for Blaine to come -- his hips rocket up against the vibrator as his back hits the mattress again, his whole body tense and warm and tingling with the severity of his orgasm. Kurt envelops Blaine’s mouth with his own and kisses him _hard_ to swallow the sound Blaine can’t hold back -- still, now, always aware.

The second Blaine’s orgasm starts to fade, he whimpers against Kurt’s mouth and breaks away with a harsh kiss, gasping at the now over-stimulating vibrations against his clit. Quickly, Blaine reaches a hand down and pushes the hand Kurt is holding the vibrator with away, desperate to catch his breath. Vaguely, he’s aware of Kurt turning off the vibrator and setting it aside (probably to clean later), but the thing that gets Blaine to open his eyes again after he comes down is the silky slide of the bedsheet being pulled up over him. It’s awkward, considering their feet are at the head of the bed, but somehow Kurt makes it work, the gesture comforting as he curls up next to Blaine. He presses a soft kiss to Blaine’s shoulder, props his head up on his hand, and smiles.

Blaine breathes, and he is alive.

“It’s nice to see you feeling better,” Kurt says quietly. Blaine raises his eyebrows, mouth twisting into an amused smile. “I mean, not just because of the sex, although that was _more than_ nice,” Kurt admits. “It’s just -- you seem happy.”

“I am,” Blaine says. A beat, and then he adds, “And not just because of the sex.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at the teasing, but his smile doesn’t fade. “I just meant -- it reminds me a lot of when we first met.”

Blaine glances down at his own body, naked save for the sheet covering it, fetus beneath his skin. “How, exactly?” he asks, teasing.

Kurt narrows his eyes, but there’s still a playful spark in them as he bites his lip and brushes his fingertips over Blaine’s skin, inching down but never dipping beneath the sheet. “You just seemed very… comfortable in your own skin, back then,” Kurt explains, smiling when Blaine inhales sharply at the teasing touch. “Once I got to know you a little better, I realized that wasn’t true, at least --”

“-- not always,” Blaine finishes softly, reaching for Kurt’s hand with his own. He averts his eyes for a moment and focuses on their hands, remembering how electrifying this touch had felt less than an hour ago. “You said that you felt invisible back then,” he recalls, “and that I… noticed you.” Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet Kurt’s again. “Well, you saw _me_. You still do. It’s… nice, you know? To know that there are some things that haven’t changed even though we’re not teenagers anymore.”

“I’m happy that you’re comfortable in your own skin again,” Kurt says, running his thumb along the back of Blaine’s hand. “I know it’s something you wanted, particularly with this pregnancy.” He’s quiet for a moment, eyes drifting down to the slight swell of Blaine’s belly. “Did you, um -- did you mean it, earlier, when you said that I could ask you anything I wanted to know?”

Blaine mirrors Kurt’s soothing gesture and runs his thumb along the back of Kurt’s hand. “Of course.”

Kurt props himself up a little more but doesn’t let go of Blaine’s hand. “The whole idea that with a newborn, we should sleep when the baby sleeps -- is that true? I mean, did you do that with Joy?”

It’s such a non-sequitur that Blaine’s mind struggles for a minute trying to think of how best to answer. “Oh, um -- in my experience, it was mostly true? I think it depended on who all was available to take care of her, but really early on, yeah, I definitely tried sleeping when she did. Her sleep patterns were pretty irregular for a while, and then I moved out here and we sort of had to readjust. Sleeping when she slept was the only way I could even have a chance at functioning. I mean, I had to put myself in a position to wake up and take care of her whenever she needed me, and sometimes I sacrificed sleep to get other stuff done while she slept, but it was doable. It was just… an adjustment.” He pauses and scrunches his nose. “Did any of that make sense or sound like an answer?” he laughs.

Kurt nods, but there’s something… heavy in his eyes, concentrated and concerned. He draws in a breath, about to speak, but the air is still and silent for a beat before he does. “Everything’s going to change after the baby comes, isn’t it?” Kurt muses.

There’s something there, hidden behind the hesitation in Kurt’s tone, that tells Blaine that this about more than just sex and sleep. Still, Blaine doesn’t pry further, but he tries to offer the most reassuring words he can. “Yeah,” he affirms, squeezing Kurt’s hand a little tighter, “but it won’t be like that forever. Things will keep changing. They always do. But change is a good thing,” he points out. “Or at least I’m learning it can be.”

Kurt relaxes into a smile and curls in closer, hooking a leg over Blaine’s and moving his hand to rest against Blaine’s cheek. “And some things,” Kurt murmurs, leaning in for a slow, warm kiss, “stay the same.”

* * * * *

For all that choosing to go through with this pregnancy has given Blaine a sense of calm and control, it still makes him anxious at times. He’s determined to be happy about it because he hadn’t really been able to be, last time. And he _is_ , most of the time. It’s not like he’s forcing himself to be happy. He’s content with himself and his choices and the good things he knows are to come. It’s just -- there’s still so _much_ left in front of them, so much mixed in with this pregnancy that gives him anxiety if he thinks about it too much. The fact of the matter is that regardless of the fact that he wants this (that _they_ want this), the timing is still pretty terrible when he thinks about everything else they’ve yet to deal with. No one else knows about the pregnancy yet, they haven’t told Joy about anything at all (Kurt, in particular), and the logistics of when and where and how they’re going to come together and be a family unit and raise their children is a subject they haven’t even broached.

But this -- _all_ of this is because of choices that they’ve made, and as long as they’re still making choices, they still have some semblance of control. For all that it’s always been a big issue for Kurt, Blaine knows that he feels better having control, too. And he _has_ that; he just has to remind himself of it anytime he starts to panic a little. There are decisions to still be made. There is information that still needs to be shared. Blaine can dictate pacing and priorities. Change is mostly a choice, but he still has some influence over how and when change occurs.

Growth, on the other hand, is another matter entirely. Growth is a slave to time and emotions and will, and Blaine can only control some of those things in regards to himself, not others. But growth can be a good thing, too. Who he is as a result of being a parent to Joy is proof of that, as is his relationship with Kurt. Blaine is far less afraid of growth than he is of change, even with less control. Growth is what follows change, is far less painful in the end. Growth means acceptance. Blaine’s actually looking forward to it, because as their second child grows inside of him, so does their affection and regard for one another.

It also reminds him that there has always been a place for Kurt in his life. It’s just a matter of fitting him in properly.

As Blaine sets the last of the bowls of food onto the table into the kitchen on Saturday evening, the sight of Kurt tucked against Joy’s side while she colors serves as a reminder that Kurt is already fitting in pretty well so far. “Okay, let’s put away the coloring books,” Blaine says, moving around the table to help Joy pick up her things. “You need to wash your hands before dinner.” Joy sighs but sets down a purple crayon and sits up a little, closing the book she’s been working on.

“Let me,” Kurt offers, pushing himself to his feet and helping Joy down off of her booster seat. He gathers up her art supplies in one hand and smiles down at her, ruffling her curls with his free hand as she moves past him to head into the bathroom. Briefly, he turns his smile onto Blaine. “I’ll put these in her room and be back in a minute.”

“Wait,” Blaine murmurs, reaching for Kurt’s arm and closing the distance between them. He presses a warm kiss to Kurt’s mouth, wrapping his free arm around Kurt’s waist to pull him closer. Kurt makes a pleased noise against Blaine’s mouth and tries to curl in even closer. The slight swell of Blaine’s stomach isn’t much of a deterrent at this point, but the coloring books and box of crayons in Kurt’s hand are, and the attempt becomes awkward enough that they end up laughing into each others’ mouths before breaking the kiss. “Okay, okay, go,” Blaine chuckles, releasing his hold on Kurt. “Thank you for your help.”

Kurt rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Boyfriend. One of the fathers to our children,” he points out, punctuating the reminder with a parting kiss. “You really don’t have to thank me.” There’s a knock on the front door, then, causing Kurt to gesture in the general direction of it on his way to Joy’s room. “You _can_ answer the door, though!” he calls.

“It is my apartment,” Blaine counters with a laugh, but he lets Kurt retreat farther into the apartment and moves to the front door to answer it.

The last person he expects to see on the other side of the door is his brother.

Well, okay, maybe not the _last_ person.

“Coop -- _oomph_!” Blaine mumbles into his brother’s jacket as Cooper tugs him into a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Studio’s dark for two weeks, Squirt,” Cooper explains, releasing his hold on Blaine and moving past him into the apartment. “I thought I’d come see you guys before I head out to Ohio for Father’s Day.” Blaine shuts the door and takes a second to collect himself before turning to face Cooper again. His eyes are immediately drawn to the suitcases that Cooper’s set down on the floor next to the couch, and Blaine can’t help but raise his eyebrows in question. Cooper, of course, just smiles. “Mind if I crash on your couch for a week? It seemed sort of silly to get a room since I’m just going to be spending my time with you guys.”

Blaine works his jaw a little, his lips twisting into a reluctant smile as he thinks it over. It’s so _typical_ of Cooper to do something like this -- it always has been. But Cooper is also not the same person he was four years ago. He’s holding down a steady job as a series regular on a daytime drama, which means that he can actually afford to pay his own rent, now. And even though they just saw him a month ago, it’s not lost on Blaine that Cooper’s hurricane of an arrival is continued proof that Cooper is trying really hard to be close to them. He’s felt more like an older brother in the last four years than he ever has -- at least in more positive and playful respects. But Cooper has also been -- _is_ a really wonderful uncle to Joy, which is an accomplishment considering that he gets really weird about how fragile children can be, sometimes. They _don’t_ get to see him all that often anymore since he started working, so the extra visit is appreciated, particularly given all of the things that Blaine has been thinking about dealing with and the things he’s actively been dealing with.

Cooper may be contained chaos, but he’s at least familiar. He’s family. He fits. There is always a place for him here.

Blaine relaxes a little, shoulders dropping and smile less tight. “As long as you didn’t bring any noisemakers,” he warns, half-teasing.

“Uncle Coop!”

They both turn to face Joy, who is running down the hallway at top speed, positively beaming at the sight of Cooper. “Hey!” Cooper laughs, kneeling down on the floor and opening his arms so Joy can hurtle herself into them. “There’s my favorite niece!”

Blaine snorts in derision. “Cooper, she’s your only niece.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s not my _favorite_ ,” Cooper insists, hoisting Joy into his arms and pushing himself to his feet.

Blaine just barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “We were just about to sit down to dinner, if you want to help her into her booster seat.”

“And _you_ ,” Cooper sighs, adjusting Joy slightly in his arms, “are my favorite brother. I haven’t had a real meal since breakfast my time.”

“Just get in the kitchen,” Blaine laughs, grabbing the hand towel that’s been slung over his shoulder to playfully whip Cooper with it.

“Oh god, pasta,” Cooper groans as he heads into the kitchen. “ _Bread_. The only way this could get any better is if you baked a batch of your homemade cookies.”

“We did!” Joy announces. “Kurt helped me with the spoon.”

Cooper sets Joy down in her booster seat before glancing up at where Blaine is leaning against the door frame. “Kurt’s here?”

Blaine smiles warmly and nods. “He stays overnight on weekends. Actually, I, uh -- I should probably give him a heads up that you’re here,” Blaine figures, pushing himself off of the door frame. “You can start serving yourself, but fix Joy a plate too? And remember to cut up the --”

“-- the spaghetti because a three-year-old doesn’t quite have the dexterity or coordination to master the whole swirling it with a spoon approach,” Cooper recites dutifully.

Blaine grins at him. “And that’s what makes _you_ the best uncle,” he says, turning to leave the kitchen and head down the hall in search of Kurt.

“I’m her only uncle!” Cooper calls after him.

Blaine’s answering laugh falters into a startled _oh_ when he almost runs right into Kurt in the hallway. “Hey,” he laughs, anchoring a hand on Kurt’s arm and righting himself. “Um, Cooper’s here.”

“I can see that,” Kurt says, nodding towards Cooper’s suitcases. “Is he planning on moving in?” Kurt quips dryly.

“No,” Blaine assures him, still laughing. “He’s just going to crash on the couch for a week since he doesn’t have to work right now.”

“And you’re… okay with that?” Kurt asks, sounding hesitant. “I mean, it doesn’t bother you that he just sort of dropped in and expected to stay?”

Blaine shrugs. “Not really. We don’t get to see him all that often. And I mean, this is probably the best time for him to do it, you know, since I’m between classes and work right now. Besides, he’s family.”

“Right,” Kurt says faintly.

Blaine drags his hand down to squeeze Kurt’s hand and offers him a warm smile. “Come on,” he beckons, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Let’s go have dinner.”

Dinner is a little… off-balance. Blaine adjusts to Cooper’s presence much more quickly than Kurt seems to, but it takes pretty much the entire meal for Blaine to really _notice_ that. It’s easy for Blaine to fall into conversation with Cooper, to ask questions about Cooper’s job and his prospects for a Daytime Emmy nomination next year since he’d been overlooked this year. It’s easy for Blaine to feel relaxed with Cooper at Joy’s side, helping her through the meal and keeping her entertained and included. It’s when the plates are almost cleared that Kurt’s presence gets pushed to the foreground a little. He brings a new cup of water to the table for Joy and moves to set it in front of her, clearly a little startled when Cooper automatically takes it from him and switches the cups out. Slowly, Kurt withdraws his hand, and it’s only then that Blaine realizes how _quiet_ he’s been during their meal. Blaine’s used to accepting the help, particularly from his family, but this is all still sort of new for Kurt. As a trio, they’ve been developing their own rhythm, but Kurt isn’t used to the rhythm Blaine has with the rest of his family. It’s a stark reminder that they’re both still trying to make Kurt fit back into the puzzle, and Blaine thinks he knows what Kurt needs right now -- an anchor. Subtly, Blaine moves his hand under the table and takes Kurt’s hand up in his.

The touch doesn’t spark as much as it normally does, but it makes Blaine feel more at home.

Still, the gesture seems to only be comforting as long as it lasts, because as soon as he lets go and they start to clean up, Blaine can tell how uneasy and uncomfortable Kurt is, still silent. It reminds him a lot of what Kurt was like last month with the rest of the family here, nervous and a little withdrawn. And it occurs to Blaine, then, that this is only Kurt’s second time around Blaine’s family since before their break-up years ago. Blaine figures that Kurt just needs a little time to adjust and feel comfortable, and he’s more than willing to give Kurt a little time and space if he needs it. So while Cooper takes Joy to brush her teeth and bathe and get ready for bed, Blaine offers to put leftovers away and wash dishes to give Kurt a little room to breathe.

When he’s finished, he makes his way down the hall to the bedroom to check on Kurt, smiling as Joy’s laughter drifts into the hallway from the bathroom. Blaine’s smile falters and fades, though, once he crosses the threshold into his bedroom and finds Kurt packing up his messenger bag. “You’re… leaving,” he guesses, unable to hide his disappointment.

Kurt turns to face him and rolls his shoulders back, smile awkward. “Yeah,” Kurt admits with a sigh. “I think I’m just going to head back to my apartment.”

Blaine leans against one of the dressers, taking a second to choose his next words carefully. “You normally stay all weekend. I want -- I just don’t want you to feel like you have to leave just because Cooper’s here.”

“No, that’s not -- I just feel kind of… claustrophobic with him around,” Kurt explains with a sigh, looking more uncomfortable than he has all night.

“I get that Cooper’s kind of a big personality,” Blaine empathizes, the statement punctuated by Cooper’s loud laugh carrying down the hall. Kurt raises his eyebrows at the sound, clearly trying to bite back an amused smile. The reaction gives Blaine pause and bolsters him, giving him courage to pursue his argument. “He was here last month,” Blaine reminds him. “So were my parents. And I -- I know you were nervous, then, but you didn’t seem to to be as bothered by their presence.”

“That was different,” Kurt counters, sounding surprisingly patient. “It was Joy’s birthday. It was just for the weekend, and they weren’t even sleeping here. They stayed at a hotel. I just --” Kurt sighs, shoulders falling, and he looks so _defeated_ that Blaine feels bad for pushing. “I just… kind of want my space. And I can get that here,” Kurt assures him, closing the distance between them and reaching for Blaine’s hand, “but not with your brother around. At least -- at least not right now.”

Blaine takes a breath to steady himself, trying not to get frustrated. The thing is that he _gets_ it -- he really does. He knows how overwhelming it can be to have Cooper around, sometimes. God, Blaine knows that probably better than anyone. He grew up with Cooper. He knows how difficult it can be to exist in the same space as Cooper at times. The age gap didn’t help their strained sibling rivalry, either. And Blaine can understand how Cooper’s sudden and unexpected appearance might make Kurt feel a little stressed. They’re still working on finding their rhythm and footing as a trio, still trying to fit their pieces together. Blaine can understand how Kurt might feel like there isn’t room to breathe or space for them to form their family with Cooper around, especially since Joy doesn’t know that Kurt is her father. There’s still so much change to deal with, and if Kurt wants their space to be _theirs_ while they go through it, Blaine can’t fault or deny him. With a sigh, Blaine pushes himself off of the dresser and takes up Kurt’s other hand. “I want you to stay,” he admits, “but I understand.”

The look on Kurt’s face makes it obvious that he thinks he still needs to explain himself. “I need some space and time to just breathe,” he explains, air leaving his lungs in a rush. “And right now, I feel like I can’t breathe.”

It’s the same thing Blaine had said a month ago, when they’d first discovered he was pregnant. Blaine remembers realizing that Kurt had wanted to feel like he could use his voice, like he was heard. Blaine has a sneaking suspicion that the same thing might be true now, but Kurt is asking for space, and Blaine understands that he needs to give it to Kurt. Giving each other space when it’s necessary has been working wonders for them so far. And Blaine remembers how Kurt had reassured him a month ago, when he’d said he felt like he couldn’t breathe. So he does the same thing now and uses his grip on Kurt’s hands to pull Kurt into a warm kiss.

A month ago, Kurt had promised to stay. Right now, Blaine has to let him go.

The way Kurt smiles against his mouth tells Blaine that he’s doing the right thing. “I’ll be back on Friday,” Kurt chuckles between kisses.

Blaine presses one more kiss to Kurt’s lips before nuzzling their noses together. “I know.” Reluctantly, he pulls away, but he doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hands. “May I accompany you to the front door?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t fade. “You are… ridiculous.”

“And yet you keep coming back to me,” Blaine teases, letting go of Kurt’s hand so Kurt can grab his bag off of the bed.

Halfway down the hall, Kurt stops suddenly when Joy darts out of the bathroom, hair still damp and towel wrapped around her. Quickly, she moves to stand behind Kurt’s legs, hiding her face against the fabric of his pants and causing Blaine to laugh. “Hello,” Kurt drawls, clearly amused as he twists awkwardly to try and look at her.

“Shh,” she hushes, clinging to Kurt’s pants. “I’m hiding.”

“You can run but you can’t hide!” Cooper calls from the bathroom, voice growing louder as he emerges into the hall. “I’ve got your number, munchkin.”

Joy squeals and releases her hold on Kurt before darting into her bedroom, almost losing the towel in her attempt to escape. Cooper follows her quickly, a grin plastered on his face, but the exchange causes Kurt to lean back and inhale sharply, clearly uncomfortable again. “Good night,” he calls after them, brow knitting a little when he doesn’t get a response. Again, Blaine is struck with the impression that Kurt isn’t feeling heard, but all Kurt does is adjust the strap of his messenger bag and press on toward the front door. And again, Blaine just _wants_.

He wants Kurt to stay.

But he _can’t_ \-- Blaine _can’t_ ask him to stay, so he does the only thing he can think of to convey the sentiment without actually asking. Kurt turns to face him again when they reach the front door, and Blaine presses him against it, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. Kurt lets out a muffled noise of surprise against Blaine’s mouth, but he relaxes into the kiss after a second, anchoring a hand at Blaine’s hip. Blaine rests his forehead against Kurt’s when they break apart, but he doesn’t speak. The silence that lingers between them is a little more comfortable, and Kurt’s tone is soft when he speaks. “Go spend time with your family,” he encourages.

And _god_ , Blaine can so hear the words that Kurt isn’t saying between the lines, but he can still sense that now isn’t the time to push too much. At some point, Kurt has to be the one to use his voice. Blaine can’t always pull it out of him. It’s the opposite of how things work in reverse for them. Normally, things work out better for them if Kurt pushes Blaine to use his voice a little. But they are different people, and Blaine has spent the last few months learning that pushing Kurt too far means risking pushing him away. Obviously, Blaine doesn’t want that, and he knows that giving Kurt space is _okay_ \-- it’s _safe_. Kurt has promised a thousand times over to be here, that he’ll always come back. Now more than ever, Blaine believes him. He reaches a hand up to cup Kurt’s face to keep Kurt close. “You _are_ my family.”

Kurt’s swallow is audible, but the look in his eyes tells Blaine that he’s said the right thing. Kurt looks touched, like he’s grateful for the reminder, and the hand that’s anchored at Blaine’s hip falls to the slight swell of Blaine’s stomach. Blaine inhales sharply, cheeks flushed. He can’t let himself get too aroused at the memory of the previous night, not when Kurt is about to leave. Luckily, Kurt deters from Blaine’s distraction with his own, craning to look behind Blaine. There’s apprehension written in the lines of Kurt’s face, and Blaine knows without asking that he’s still hyper-conscious of Cooper’s presence. This time, Kurt’s anxiety makes more sense to Blaine -- they haven’t told anyone about the baby yet. And on top of everything else, Blaine isn’t ready to say anything yet.

Kurt leans back in to press one last kiss to Blaine’s mouth before pulling away, reaching for the handle and pulling open the door. Blaine keeps the last of his protests to himself and closes the door behind Kurt, feeling a little melancholy. He rests his back against the door and closes his eyes, taking a few minutes to breathe in the wake of Kurt’s abrupt departure. For all that Blaine thinks he understands how Kurt’s feeling right now, there’s still so much that doesn’t make sense to him, so much that doesn’t sit right. A few hours ago, Kurt had been perfectly fine, relaxed and at ease around him and Joy. Cooper’s arrival may have shifted the balance and rhythm a little, certainly, but Blaine still thinks there’s more that Kurt’s not telling him.

A slight tug on his pants pulls him back into focus and forces him to open his eyes and smile down at Joy. Thankfully, Cooper’s managed to brush her hair and get her into pajamas, and not for the first time tonight is Blaine surprisingly glad that his brother is here. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Joy reaches her arms up toward him and looks at him expectantly. “Up, please.” Mindful of the slight changes in his body, Blaine leans down and hoists her into his arms, noting the way her legs hug the slight swell of his stomach. “Daddy, will you sing with Uncle Coop?”

Blaine smiles and presses a kiss to her temple. “Sure, honey,” he agrees. “But it’s bedtime, so no jumping on furniture, okay?” She sighs dramatically but doesn’t really protest beyond that, and Blaine tries to steel himself for what’s sure to be a very theatrical week.

And in the wake of the silent void Kurt leaves behind, Blaine tries to use his voice to fill in the missing piece.

* * * * *

After Kurt leaves, Blaine is the one who ends up feeling a little claustrophobic. He’s not bothered by Cooper’s presence. He’s grateful, honestly, to have Cooper around. He’s good company, if a little over-zealous, and Blaine will take almost any reasonable opportunity to let Cooper and Joy spend time together. Cooper is also -- he’s not taking Kurt’s place, because there’s a place for each of them in Blaine’s life. But the fact that Cooper is staying for a week means that he’s here when Kurt isn’t, particularly during the week. It’s nice to have the extra help with Joy. But Cooper is a _big_ personality, his presence overwhelming at times. Sometimes he takes up more than the space that Blaine has allotted for him, and the only solace Blaine has in those moments (usually at the end of a long and eventful day) is the time he takes to isolate himself and make his nightly call to Kurt.

Tonight -- Wednesday and well into Cooper’s stay -- Blaine’s phone call gets cut a little short when Joy runs shrieking in front of him well past her bedtime. It takes Blaine a minute to get off of the phone, but it takes much longer to get her into the bath -- where, thanks to Cooper’s encouragement from the hall, Blaine finds his shirt soaked due to all of the splashing Joy the mermaid does. She doesn’t quite calm down until Blaine has her out of the bath and wrapped up in a towel, but she still can’t quite contain her giggles. Her delight is charming and infectious, and Blaine can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to her nose before carrying her into her bedroom to help her change into her pajamas.

Joy’s energy seems to drop off once he’s got her in pajamas, the material soft against her skin. She’s quiet and almost docile as she sits in his lap while he brushes her hair, feet swinging in the air and occasionally knocking into Blaine’s legs. He opts for pulling her hair back into regular braids tonight even though he needs to practice working on french braids; the regular braids are easier and less time-consuming, and Blaine really just wants to get out of this damp shirt. Cooper rejoins them just as Blaine’s tying the last hair-tie in place. “Her hair’s getting so long,” he observes.

Blaine inhales sharply at the comment, because he’s pretty sure she’s going to need a haircut within the next year or so and it’s a first that he’s really not ready to think about, regardless of how silly it is to be freaking out about it. He’s got too much else on his plate to worry about it right now. If Joy can live with it for another year, Blaine can live with detangling and taming it for her. He runs a hand over her tender head, mouth quirking up into a smile when the usual lock of hair in the front breaks free and curls down over her forehead. He reaches out to tuck it behind her ear before settling his hands at her waist, ready to pass her off to Cooper. “Can you take care of storytime tonight?” Blaine asks. “I just want to change really quick --”

“No,” Joy protests with a whine, squirming in Blaine’s lap until she’s curled against him. And oh, she looks way more tired than he would’ve guessed, her eyes heavy and warm. Blaine doesn’t find her sudden sleepiness all that surprising, though, considering how eventful their days have been since Cooper’s arrival last weekend. Joy’s always a little high-strung and full of extra energy when Cooper’s around, but she does tend to crash much more quickly, too. Judging by the way her fingers are curling into the fabric of his still-damp shirt, Blaine can tell that it’s not going to take all that much now to get her to sleep tonight. He’s willing to sacrifice a few minutes to discomfort in order to help her get there. “Sing with Uncle Coop,” she requests.

Blaine looks up at Cooper knowingly, already mentally rifling through their repertoire to find something they haven’t done for her in a while. She’s been requesting duets every night since Cooper’s arrival, and over the last several days, they’ve worked their way through a variety of golden oldies (last night had featured an acoustic rendition of [a song by The Four Tops](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3bksUSPB4c)) and music from the 80s (although they’ve been avoiding Duran Duran at bedtime, because _I don’t care how great you sound on their songs, Cooper, we’re trying to get her to sleep, not start a dance party_ ). As much as Blaine has a fond and fierce love and appreciation for 80s music, he kind of wants to do something a little different tonight, maybe something a little more modern. “It’s your turn to pick,” Blaine says, “but maybe something from this century?”

Cooper crosses the room and settles on the floor next to them, resting his back against the side of Joy’s bed. “Hmm,” he muses, tugging playfully at Joy’s feet. “Give me a word, or a theme, or an artist, or a genre -- something to narrow it down.”

“Our repertoire isn’t that big, Coop,” Blaine reminds him dryly.

“Work with me here, little bro.”

Blaine sighs but relaxes against the back of the rocking chair, hand rubbing idly at Joy’s back. She snuggles a little closer, clearly appreciative of the gesture. A warmth spreads through Blaine’s chest, and he drops a kiss to her head, keeping his child (his _children_ , the back of his mind supplies) close. “Sun.”

“Colbie Caillat or Jason Mraz?” Cooper suggests.

“Mraz,” Blaine says. “I know which songs you’re considering. Caillat’s a little too upbeat for bedtime.”

“Want me to start?” Cooper offers, releasing his hold on Joy’s foot. Blaine nods in approval, and after a dramatic clearing of the throat, Cooper starts to [sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcQwIxRcaYs). They each take a verse and harmonize on the chorus, alternating lines during the bridge. Something inside of Blaine aches with longing when he gets to _you can see that your home’s inside of you_ , and as they descend into vocalizing, Blaine feels the void that Kurt has left behind. Blaine misses him, even with Cooper here, but Blaine tries to remember that he has pieces of Kurt here with him -- Joy, in his arms, and the fetus growing inside of him. And Kurt will be back in a matter of days, exchanging places with Cooper and moving pieces back into place.

Joy’s not quite asleep by the time they finish their duet, but Blaine can tell that she’s getting really close. He’s willing to bet that she doesn’t even need a book tonight, and bolstered by the need to take just a few minutes for himself, Blaine decides to take a risk and let Cooper sing the last song of the night. With a soft kiss to her forehead and a murmured _I love you_ in her ear, Blaine carefully leans forward and gently shifts Joy into Cooper’s arms. Joy’s cheek immediately finds Cooper’s shoulder as she snuggles in close, her parting wave and drooping eyes putting Blaine at ease as he pushes himself to his feet and makes his way into his bedroom.

From the hallway, Blaine can hear Cooper launch into his rendition of Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time,” and Blaine can’t help the amused smile that blossoms onto his face.

Some things never change.

Blaine strips off his damp shirt and deposits it in the hamper tucked next to the in-unit washer/dryer before entering his room. The ache in his chest is worse, now that he’s alone, and he reaches for the camera on his dresser before sinking down onto the mattress. Printing out the pictures from the last month -- including Joy’s birthday -- and starting the next scrapbook has been on his to-do list for a while, but it’s only now, with more free time and a longing ache in his heart that Blaine feels ready to do it. He has always felt more at home when he’s with Kurt, and Kurt’s absence reminds Blaine too much of what it had been like after he’d told the truth about Joy. Blaine hadn’t felt at home at all after Kurt had left, had felt alone and uncomfortable in his own skin, like he was suffocating.

Blaine had sought out Joy, then -- always -- to help him remember how to breathe. But he’s just left her with Cooper, and Blaine is struck again with a feeling of claustrophobia. Hands shaking, Blaine scrolls through the photographs on his camera until he finds the one of Kurt and Joy in the aviary, light refracted through the glass. Desperate to find a comfortable rhythm again, Blaine softly sings the lyrics of “93 Million Miles” again -- _sometimes it may seem dark, but the absence of light is a necessary part_. And Blaine remembers, then, that they are in this together, and he is not alone.

Kurt will come back home.

With breath in his lungs again, Blaine turns the camera off and writes himself a reminder on a post-it note to begin work on the scrapbook by next week. He longs to feel comfortable in his skin again and strips himself of his jeans, frowning at the slightly red marks the waistband has left. They’re not that bad, honestly, but Blaine knows that he’s only going to get bigger. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to work with his current wardrobe. With a sigh, Blaine absently runs a hand over his baby bump in silent apology before digging in his dresser for some pajamas. He tugs on the most comfortable pair of pajama pants he owns but grabs a shirt at random, startled when Cooper clears his throat from the doorway. “Hey,” Blaine sighs, slipping the shirt on and turning to face his brother. “Everything okay? Is she asking for me?”

“She’s fine,” Cooper assures him. “She’s sleeping.”

Blaine bumps the drawer shut with his hip and takes a second to survey Cooper’s expression. There’s something… off about the way Cooper is looking at him, and Blaine rolls his shoulders back and stands akimbo, suddenly uncomfortable again. “What?” he prompts with a huff. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Cooper doesn’t say anything for what feels like several long minutes, but when he does, his voice is barely there and full of disbelief. “You’re pregnant?”

All of Blaine’s breath leaves him at once, and he knows he fails at masking his surprise. “Um --”

“And please, _don’t_ treat me like I’m an idiot,” Cooper says, lowering his voice and taking a step toward Blaine. “Because I really don’t think you can deny this --” he adds, reaching out a hand to lift up the hem of Blaine’s shirt.

Blaine inhales sharply and pushes Cooper’s hand away, tugging his shirt back down. “Don’t,” he snaps, taking a step back. He’s not -- it’s not like he’s deliberately hiding it. He’s not ashamed of the choice he’s made. But Cooper’s approach is accusatory and abrasive, and more than ever, Blaine feels like Cooper is invading his personal space. Blaine takes a breath to steady himself and forces his hands to rest at his sides. “I wasn’t going to deny it.”

Cooper’s exhale is audible. “Do Mom and Dad know?”

Another breath for patience. “No,” Blaine admits.

Cooper arches his eyebrows, eyes widening a little. “Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Of course I was,” Blaine sighs, slightly exasperated and a little disbelieving himself. “We haven’t told _anyone_ yet.” He hesitates for a moment, realization dawning on him, and takes a step forward. “Cooper, you can’t say anything to them,” Blaine says evenly. Cooper opens his mouth, probably to protest, but Blaine holds up a hand to keep him from speaking. “You can’t say anything to them when you go to visit this weekend for Father’s Day. I’m not keeping it from them, but this kind of news needs to come from _me_ , okay?”

“Yeah,” Cooper agrees, sounding serious, “it does. I just --” Cooper heaves out a great sigh and takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant. I mean, you and Kurt have been back together officially for what, four months?”

“Not… quite,” Blaine answers through gritted teeth. “Look, I’m not really in the mood for a lecture or anything here, okay? We’re both adults. This is our relationship and our choice.”

“You didn’t… plan this,” Cooper says, but there’s an uncertainty in his tone.

“We didn’t plan this,” Blaine confirms, trying his best to sound patient. “It was an accident. But we thought about it and talked about it and decided we wanted to go through with this.”

Cooper’s gaze drifts down to Blaine’s abdomen briefly before Cooper takes another step back and moves to sit on the bed. Blaine hesitates for a moment before joining him, keeping a good couple of feet of space between them. Cooper won’t look at him, though, just keeps his eyes trained forward. “How long have you known?”

Blaine swallows and rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “A month.”

Cooper’s brow knits in what Blaine thinks is confusion. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Blaine sighs and reclines all the way until his back hits the mattress, hands folded and resting over his tiny bump. “Lots of reasons,” he says, knowing it sounds like a cop out. “We found out the day after Joy’s birthday. You guys were still here --”

“Yeah, we were,” Cooper says. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Blaine props himself up on his elbows and looks at Cooper a little incredulously even though Cooper can’t see his expression. “We’d only _just_ found out,” Blaine says again. “We needed time to process. I had finals right after you guys left. It’s not like we took this lightly, Cooper. We took some time to think and talk about it. It’s been less than two weeks since we made our decision.” Blaine pauses, takes a minute to study Cooper’s body language, the way he’s hunched over a little, head bowed and hands folded together. It’s the most closed-off Blaine’s seen him in a long time, and so much of what he’s said in the last few minutes has really rubbed Blaine the wrong way. “This isn’t about _you_ , Coop.”

Cooper straightens up a little at that, finally looking over his shoulder to meet Blaine’s eyes. He looks a little incredulous himself, but there’s something more, there, something that looks a little like hurt. He turns the rest of the way around so that they’re mostly facing each other, but he doesn’t move any closer. “I’m not trying to make it about me,” Cooper says, and this time it’s him who sounds like he’s trying to be patient. Cooper drops his eyes again and starts to toy with a stray thread on the comforter. “Mom and Dad have always been really supportive when it comes to you and Joy. And I -- I know I wasn’t really there for most of your last pregnancy with Joy, but I’ve tried being around as much as I can be since she was born.”

Blaine softens a little despite his confusion. “You’re around enough. You’re a good uncle, Coop.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Cooper’s face, but it’s gone almost as soon as it appears. “That’s not -- I’m just saying that things are really different, now,” he tries to explain. “You live really far away now. We only know what you tell us. And we can’t… be there for you if we don’t even know what’s going on.”

Blaine feels any remaining discomfort and tension melt out of his body. “I appreciate the sentiment, Cooper, but you don’t have to worry so much. I’m not alone out here anymore, remember? I have Kurt now. We both do.”

Cooper still looks fairly awkward and uncomfortable, but he lifts his head, gaze resting on the framed photograph of Blaine and Joy on the nightstand. “You haven’t told her yet, have you? About Kurt or the baby?”

Blaine lets out a heavy sigh. “Not yet,” he admits, groaning a little as he sits up the rest of the way. “But I will. Just like I’ll tell Mom and Dad about the baby.” He hesitates for a second before taking Cooper’s hand in his, forcing eye contact. “But I’m going to do it in my own time and in my own way, okay? So promise me you won’t talk to them about it until after I’ve told them.”

Cooper still looks a little skeptical and not all that happy about being made to keep it a secret for a little while, but the way he squeezes Blaine’s hand is reassuring. “Okay,” Cooper sighs. Again, he pauses, eyes drifting back down to Blaine’s bump. “Is, um, is everything okay, at least?”

“So far, so good,” Blaine assures him. He smiles a little as an idea occurs to him, and he lets go of Cooper’s hand so he can dig through his nightstand drawer. He unearths one of his copies of the sonogram from last week and hands it over to Cooper with a tentative smile. “I had an ultrasound done with my new OB last week,” Blaine explains, scooting a little closer. “I’m, uh -- well, I was twelve weeks when I had the appointment. I’ll be thirteen weeks on Friday.”

“So, um --” Cooper pauses and clears his throat, setting the sonogram on his lap. “When does that make -- when are you due, then?”

“Full term is technically mid-December,” Blaine answers, still trying to be patient, “although I wouldn’t be surprised if the baby ended up being a little early like Joy was.”

Cooper offers him a faint, awkward smile. “I guess that means Christmas is here this year, then?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Blaine says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I haven’t really given it much thought yet.”

Cooper nods like he understands, but there’s something in his expression that makes Blaine feel like he really doesn’t. “I guess that… this,” Cooper says, gesturing at the sonogram without actually touching it, “means that Kurt’s going to be staying more often than just weekends, then. I mean, obviously he was going to, because of Joy, but this just sort of… accelerates the process.”

Blaine rubs his hands over his face and sighs. _This_ is part of the reason that they haven’t told anyone about the baby yet, because there are still so many conversations that Blaine and Kurt need to have before they can answer any questions like this. “We haven’t talked about it yet,” Blaine admits, trying not to sound annoyed. “We’ve got a lot on our plate right now. I’m just… trying to pace everything out so it’s not so overwhelming.”

Another nod from Cooper, but this time it’s more convincing. “Okay,” Cooper says, still quiet but at least looking up at Blaine again. “That’s… good.” But the strange look is back on Cooper’s face, the one he’d worn when he’d first entered the bedroom a little while ago, his fingers flexing awkwardly around the sonogram, still not touching. He seems… hesitant, withdrawn, but before Blaine can assess the situation further, Cooper’s inhaling sharply and sitting up a little straighter, smile tight and uncomfortable. “You’re a much braver person than I am.”

Blaine blinks, caught off guard by the comment and trying to figure out where it came from. “Wh -- how?”

“Just the whole having kids thing,” Cooper says, as if that explains everything.

Blaine’s brow knits in confusion. “I’m just… going after what I want. It’s not that different than what you do.”

Cooper’s gaze lingers on Blaine a little longer, then, clearly studying him. It makes Blaine feel uncomfortably young in a way Cooper hasn’t made him feel in a very long time, and Blaine rolls his shoulders back, trying to feel comfortable in his skin again. “Do you ever miss it?” Cooper asks. “Pursuing performing?”

And just like that, the pieces start to come together. Cooper’s question isn’t an inquiry -- it’s doubt. It’s skepticism that the choice to go through with this pregnancy is a good one, and it’s laced with the implication that some of the choices Blaine has made so far haven’t been good ones. Which -- that doesn’t make sense to Blaine because Cooper _loves_ Joy, and Blaine’s relationship with his brother has been a lot better since she was born. But that’s why it _does_ make sense to him, because everything about the things that Cooper has said since lifting the hem of Blaine’s shirt has sounded so much like the person Blaine grew up with, and Blaine doesn’t particularly like that version of his brother. Eyes narrowed, Blaine tries to pull Cooper back to the present. “I don’t do what ifs, Cooper. I don’t regret my choices. I don’t regret Joy. I’m happy with the choices I’ve made, and I’m happy with the ones I’m making now.”

Cooper heaves a great sigh and looks away from him. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

Blaine works his jaw, his heart pounding. “I really don’t care if you’re disappointed,” Blaine says thinly. “I don’t need your condescending judgement right now.” And god, Blaine hates the way he sounds right now, hates how defensive he’s getting. He hates that Cooper brings this out in him, and he doesn’t understand why it’s happening now, with this, when it hasn’t happened in years.

Cooper turns to look at him again, nose wrinkled in study, but there’s something more there, now, something that looks a little like concern. “Is that how you think Mom and Dad are going to react when you tell them?”

Somehow _that_ gets Blaine to calm down a little, because he remembers feeling this way over Thanksgiving, when he’d argued with his father about telling Kurt about Joy. And he remembers how his father’s reaction had forced him to be an adult, to stop and breathe and remember that they have always been there for him and Joy, and they’ve promised to be always. “I’m not worried about losing their help or their support,” Blaine says calmly, “but I don’t like being judged. I’m not you, Cooper. I don’t like subjecting myself to other people’s judgement. I mean, you can’t tell me that it didn’t hurt not being nominated for an Emmy this year. You’ve never liked being overlooked.”

Cooper shifts uncomfortably on the bed, but he doesn’t look away. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m answering your earlier question,” Blaine explains, because if there’s anything he’s learned in the last six months, it’s that good communication is absolutely essential in any relationship. Things with Kurt have been better when they’ve both laid all of their cards on the table. If Blaine wants Cooper to understand why he’s going through with this pregnancy, he has to make sure Cooper understands where he’s coming from. And it’s -- it’s a little strange, because this is really a conversation that they should’ve had a long time ago, when Blaine first decided to keep Joy. But Cooper’s increased and active presence in their lives is still sort of recent and fairly sporadic, so this is only the first real opportunity that they’ve had to talk about it.

If Blaine has a series of difficult and loaded conversations coming up, it’s probably best that he starts with Cooper.

With a sigh, Blaine shifts on the bed and settles back against the pillows. “I… _loved_ performing,” he enthuses. “I think I still do. But I spent most of my life competing with you, Coop,” Blaine reminds him. “I always tried pleasing other people. I wanted approval. But I felt like I was constantly being judged for who I was and the choices I made. I never felt good enough. And by senior year of high school, I just kind of… fell apart.” He takes a second to breathe deep, not wanting to linger on the memory too long. “I just wanted a chance to start over. But when Joy was born, it made me realize that all of my baggage was a _good_ thing. It gave me experience. It made me wiser. She _gave me_ my second chance.”

Another awkward smile from Cooper, but this one feels genuine, at least, laced with warmth. “I get that.”

And Blaine smiles in return, because oh, _there_ Cooper is. Encouraged, Blaine presses on. “It’s why I decided to become a teacher,” he explains. “I know that art touches people, but I also know that being a teacher affords me the chance to impact the lives of kids, to influence change. And I _needed_ that. I needed change. Joy gave me the courage to pick myself up and keep going. Deciding to teach was my way of giving something back.” He hesitates, here, because he’s not sure Cooper’s going to understand. At least, the old version of Cooper wouldn’t understand, and he’s still there, sometimes, underneath layers of growth and change. “I believe in shared success,” Blaine says slowly, carefully. “I always have. And I’m happier sharing something with someone rather than keeping it all to myself. And you know what? The choices that I’ve made, the ones I’m making now -- studying to become a teacher, rekindling my relationship with Kurt, being a parent to Joy, deciding to have this baby? Those are all selfless _and_ selfish things, Cooper, and I’m entirely okay with that.”

And under the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, Blaine thinks Kurt would be proud of him.

Cooper looks mildly annoyed (probably because somewhere mixed in that explanation was a slightly condescending life lesson that Blaine’s sure Cooper didn’t want from his younger brother), but what he actually says takes Blaine by surprise. “You don’t have to justify your choices to me.”

Blaine’s brow knits in confusion, shoulders falling in disappointment. “I know that,” he sighs, patience wearing thin. “That’s not what I -- you’re my brother,” he says, exasperation evident in his tone. “Can’t you just support me?”

Cooper’s expression shifts from annoyance to confusion. “I’ve already promised that I won’t say anything to Mom and Dad yet,” Cooper reminds him. “What… else do you want from me?”

Eyes falling to the sonogram still resting on Cooper’s lap, Blaine realizes that -- despite the fact that he doesn’t feel the need to justify himself to Cooper and despite the fact that Blaine refuses to subject himself to someone else’s judgement -- there is still a part of him that very much wants approval. He wants Cooper to be on board, to really support his decision, but Blaine also recognizes that he can’t force his brother to be happy for him. “Nevermind,” Blaine sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “It’s -- your promise is all I need. Thank you for that. And thank you,” he adds, lifting his gaze again to try and move on from this disaster of a conversation, “for being here this week and helping out with Joy.”

Cooper looks a little surprised at the shift in subject, but he takes the gratitude and praise in stride, lips twisting into an amused smile. “Brother. Uncle,” Cooper points out, a hint of teasing in his voice. “You really don’t have to thank me.” The attempt at diffusion just makes Blaine feel even more unsettled because it reminds him of Kurt, and Kurt has been acting a little… off ever since Cooper arrived last weekend. And again, Blaine is left with the impression that there is something Cooper isn’t telling him, but where Blaine knows how to navigate something like this with Kurt, he really doesn’t know where to begin with Cooper. Their tense and awkward conversation is just proof that Blaine shouldn’t even try -- at least not right now. Still, it leaves him confused and frustrated, which he’s really sick of feeling at this point. It’s obvious by the comment that he has Cooper’s support, that maybe Cooper _does_ understand what Blaine meant when he talked about sharing experiences. But if Blaine has Cooper’s support, then he really has no idea what the hell Cooper’s problem is.

Cooper nudges Blaine’s knee to recapture his attention, a soft smile on his face. In his outstretched hand is the sonogram, and it’s with a heavy exhale that Blaine reaches out to take it back. This may be as good as it gets for right now. “Hey,” Cooper says, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “What do you say we break out the last of Kurt’s cookies for dessert and watch a movie? Your cable guide says that _The Wicker Man_ is on tonight.”

The suggestion is so alarming that Blaine can’t help but go with the very obvious change of subject. “I thought you’d stopped taking acting tips from Nicolas Cage.”

“I did,” Cooper promises, anchoring a hand on Blaine’s knee and leaning in a little closer. “We’re going to _critique him_.”

And at that, Blaine can’t help but smile. “Sounds like fun,” he says, trying not to laugh. “You can go set up. I’ll be out in a minute.” Cooper grins, clearly pleased that he’s succeeded, and it’s with a parting pat to Blaine’s knee that Cooper pushes himself to his feet and heads out of the bedroom. In his wake, Blaine feels oddly lonely, somehow not claustrophobic at all.

He misses Kurt.

Blaine misses Kurt, but Cooper can be -- _is_ good company. And with a warm ache in his chest, Blaine turns his smile onto the sonogram in his hands. “Your idiot of an uncle can be… infuriating sometimes,” he sighs, laughing a little. “But god,” he says, glancing briefly over at the framed photograph of him and Joy on his nightstand and remembering the way her face had lit up on Saturday, “he is going to make you _so_ happy.”

* * * * *

The thing about doubt is that it lingers.

Blaine knows that Cooper is generally supportive now. The older Joy gets, the more Cooper’s around. He’s all about helping Blaine relax and making sure Joy is always entertained. He knows how to take care of her, although that’s a much more recent development that Blaine knows is due to the fact that Joy’s not a baby anymore. Cooper doesn’t see her as fragile as he used to. And when it comes to _this_ baby -- the one Blaine is currently carrying -- Cooper has promised to let Blaine be the one to share the news with their parents.

It’s just -- once Cooper _knows_ that Blaine is pregnant, things feel… different. It’s not like a lot changes in big ways. Cooper is still himself. He’s still full of boundless energy and enthusiasm, still makes jokes and tells long-winded stories and laughs and smiles and runs after Joy. But there _are_ changes in his behavior and demeanor in even the first sixteen hours that he knows about Blaine’s pregnancy -- they’re just subtle. It’s things like Cooper offering to carry everything when they go to the street fair the next morning, things like Cooper inhaling sharply if he accidentally brushes against Blaine’s bump at all, things like that stupid, careful look he’d gazed upon Blaine with the night before. It’s almost like he’s treating _Blaine_ with kid gloves, and it’s -- well, it’s kind of annoying, honestly. The thing is, Cooper is so open and warm and accepting of Joy that Blaine doesn’t understand why Cooper’s attitude toward his future niece or nephew is so different.

Still, Blaine tries to give Cooper the benefit of the doubt. He hasn’t even known for twenty-four hours yet. Blaine remembers how overwhelmed he’d felt when he’d first found out he was pregnant again. He gets that Cooper might need a little time to process. And Cooper’s overall attitude and demeanor and behavior toward Joy hasn’t changed in the last sixteen hours, so Blaine can’t find all that much to complain about.

Like now, around lunchtime on Thursday -- Cooper’s offered to grab food from one of the vendors at the street fair while Blaine and Joy get settled in at the picnic table. Her curls are starting to spring free of the braids Blaine had done up for her last night, but she hardly seems to care. She’s much more preoccupied with the plush green giraffe Cooper had won for her at one of the carnival-like games, thumbs smoothing over its ears. Blaine smiles at her as he unearths a packet of wet wipes. “Let me see your hands,” he requests, turning to face her a little more. She offers her hands up obediently, but her eyes don’t leave the giraffe as Blaine cleans off her hands. “Why did you pick that one?”

“She was the only one!” Joy explains, looking up at him like the answer’s obvious. Blaine’s smile reaches his eyes. There had been plenty of prizes to choose from, but the green giraffe _was_ the only one of its kind. Blaine’s not surprised that Joy took notice or that she was drawn to it.

“All done,” Blaine says, releasing her hands and tossing the used wet wipe in the trash can next to them. “Does she have a name yet?”

Joy shakes her head and reaches for the giraffe, holding it out to him. “She needs sleep.”

“Good idea,” Blaine encourages, taking it from her and tucking it in the bag. “She can sleep while we eat lunch with Uncle Coop. When we get home, she can be friends with Margaret and Dino.”

“Sorry it took so long,” Cooper sighs dramatically as he rejoins them. “I ended up going to a few different vendors so we could do a sort of potluck lunch and sample everything. I wouldn’t give her that, though,” he advises, pointing to one of the dishes as he settles in on the bench opposite them. “I tried the sample -- it’s fairly spicy. I think she’ll like the macaroni and cheese bites, though. And -- oh! I got you a cup of coffee from the cafe on the corner. Figured you could use an afternoon pick-me-up. And yes, I remembered to ask for soy, before you ask.”

Blaine takes a second to survey the food in front of them, eyes lingering on the paper cup. “I take it that’s not decaf.”

“Of course not,” Cooper answers distractedly, handing Joy a napkin before using the plastic utensils to cut the macaroni and cheese bites into smaller pieces so they’re easier for her to eat.

“I’m… really not supposed to consume a lot of caffeine,” Blaine says as he digs Joy’s cup out of the bag and hands it to her, hoping Cooper gets the hint.

Cooper’s eyes narrow in confusion as he arranges the rest of the food, but understanding dawns on his face as he passes Blaine a napkin. “Oh,” Cooper says, withdrawing his hand a little too quickly. “That’s -- right. Okay.” He clears his throat and turns his attention to the food in front of him, poking idly at it for a minute before finally taking a bite.

Again, it’s subtle -- brief, fleeting, a blip in their otherwise entertaining and energetic engagements. The rest of lunch flows with ease, the three of them tucking into their food eagerly. They talk about the green giraffe some more -- Cooper offers some suggestions for names, but Joy shoots down each one. They talk about the various vendors and games and activities they’ve passed up so far that they’d like to go back to and try to plan out the rest of the afternoon in at least broad strokes. Blaine insists on being home for dinner even though Cooper’s perfectly fine with spoiling them. By the time they’ve finished lunch and started to clean up, Joy announces her need to go to the bathroom. It’s Cooper who offers to take her, and when Blaine impresses upon him to hold her hand tightly and not let go, Cooper ends up picking her up and holding her in his arms instead so she doesn’t get lost.

In his wake, Cooper leaves Blaine alone with a cold cup of coffee in the center of the picnic table.

Feeling crowded and stifled, Blaine takes a deep breath and digs his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts until he finds the name he’s looking for and presses _call_.

Kurt’s answering _hello?_ is like music to Blaine’s ears, and anchored, he smiles and breathes. “Hey,” Blaine greets warmly. “This a bad time?”

“No, I just sat down to eat,” Kurt says. “Is everything okay? You don’t normally call at lunchtime.”

“Everything’s fine,” Blaine assures him. “I just… miss you, is all.”

“Oh dear,” Kurt says, clearly fighting back a laugh. “Trouble in paradise?”

Blaine rolls his eyes even though Kurt can’t see him, but his smile doesn’t fade. “Not trouble. I’m just feeling a little…”

“Claustrophobic?” Kurt offers.

“Kind of?” Blaine sighs, smile faltering as he reaches for the paper cup to throw it away. “It’s not -- things are fine, mostly? We’re, uh, we’re at that street fair on the Upper West Side, close to Central Park.”

“Is that what all that noise is?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah,” Blaine says apologetically. “Anyway, it’s, uh -- we’re having a good time. It’s just -- every once in a while, something in relation to the pregnancy comes up and Cooper gets all _weird_ about it and it’s making me feel like --”

“Wait, wait,” Kurt interjects. “Cooper knows that you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah, he kind of just… found out last night. We had this big long discussion about it,” Blaine answers distractedly, not really wanting to focus on the details or relive the awkward conversation from the previous night. He digs around in the bag for Joy’s green giraffe and runs the thumb of his free hand over one of the ears, mimicking her earlier actions. “Anyway, ever since then, I just get the feeling that he doesn’t --”

“Hang on,” Kurt says again, cutting Blaine off again. “Cooper knows you’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” Blaine confirms again, brow knitting with the beginnings of worry.

“We haven’t told anyone about the baby yet,” Kurt reminds him. “We haven’t -- I don’t -- how did he find out?”

“It’s not like he played detective or anything like that,” Blaine quips, trying to put Kurt at ease. “He walked in on me while I was changing. I’m starting to show a little. It wasn’t all that difficult for him to figure out.”

“Okay,” Kurt sighs, still sounding on edge. “So that’s -- you said he was being… weird about it? What did you mean by that?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says, voice quiet amongst the noisy crowds around him. He starts to play with the tufts of faux hair at the top of the giraffe’s head, smiling a little forlornly. “I just get the impression that the whole thing makes him uncomfortable. It’s like… he’s trying to distance himself from it or something.”

“How does that make you feel claustrophobic?” Kurt asks, sounding confused.

“I don’t know. It’s -- it’s hard to explain. I --” Blaine inhales sharply and takes a minute to try and figure out how to articulate what he’s feeling. In a way, this reminds him a lot of what it was like when Kurt had taken a month to think after finding out the truth about Joy. Kurt had been gone and Blaine had missed him dearly, but there had been pieces of him left behind. It’s almost reversed, with Cooper. “He wanted to be here. He chose to be here. And now it’s like there’s this part of him that would really rather be somewhere else,” Blaine explains. And oh, saying the words out loud makes it hurt a little more, because Blaine just wants his brother to be happy for him and Cooper just… isn’t. Stung and fighting back a sudden swell of tears, Blaine releases his hold on the giraffe and drops his hand to his abdomen.

“He will be soon,” Kurt reminds him. “He’s going to Ohio to see your parents for Father’s Day, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but that’s not --” Blaine tapers off, understanding dawning on him. He can hear the hesitation and worry in Kurt’s voice and thinks he knows where it’s coming from. Kurt seems fairly hung up on the fact that Cooper _knows_ , and the reminder of Cooper’s impending trip to see their parents means that Kurt is worried about one of the same things Blaine had been worried about last night. “You don’t have to worry, Kurt. I made him promise not to say anything. He knows the news should come from me.”

“And you really trust him not to say anything?” Kurt presses, disbelief and derision evident in his tone.

Blaine’s shoulders sag, hand falling from his abdomen. He gets it, a little -- Kurt hasn’t been around, hasn’t spent enough time around Cooper since their reconciliation to really know who Cooper is, now. Cooper may be infuriating and frustrating at times, but Blaine loves him and appreciates him. “He’s my _brother_ ,” Blaine says, knowing he sounds a little defensive. “Of course I trust him.”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” Kurt says, short and impatient. “Do you really trust that he won’t accidentally spill the beans before you get a chance to tell your parents yourself?” Blaine exhales sharply, irritated. It’s -- he knows this is different than last night, when Blaine had accused Cooper of trying to make everything about himself. Kurt isn’t doing that, but his focus is on something different than what Blaine would like, and in a way, it almost feels the same. But even over the phone, Blaine doesn’t need to speak for Kurt to _know_ him, and Kurt’s tone has lost the sharp edge when he speaks again, voice a lot softer. “Look, I know it hasn’t even been a week since the ultrasound,” Kurt says, the hesitation in his voice making it evident that he’s choosing his words carefully. “But… we’ve known that you’re pregnant for an entire month at this point. If you want to tell your parents yourself, it’s really probably better to do it sooner rather than later.”

Blaine sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. For all that Kurt sounds patient, Blaine still feels incredibly rushed. He doesn’t like it. He’s not -- he gets that Kurt would prefer to deal with a lot of change at once, but Blaine doesn’t operate that way. He _can’t_. The changes that they’re dealing with, the ones they’ve yet to deal with -- each one is monumental and overwhelming in its own right. It’s hard enough for Blaine to even think about preparing to deal with one of them, much less to actually do it. This isn’t what he wanted out of this conversation. He’d called Kurt looking to feel comfortable in his own skin again, and instead, Blaine feels like he’s being pushed out of it.

He’s startled when Joy appears suddenly at his side, tugging at his arm. “Daddy!” she exclaims as Cooper comes up behind her. “Daddy, there’s _paint_!”

“Hang on,” Blaine says to Kurt, moving the phone away from his mouth and turning to face their daughter. He lifts his gaze to Cooper, who’s tucking the giraffe back into the bag. “Paint?” Blaine inquires.

“Face paint,” Cooper elaborates. “There’s an artist set up halfway down the block.”

“Daddy, come _on_ ,” Joy urges, tugging a little harder at his arm.

“Okay, I’m coming,” he laughs. “Hold Uncle Coop’s hand, okay?” He turns his attention to Cooper as Joy reaches for his hand. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute, okay?” Cooper nods his understanding and hoists the strap of the bag onto his shoulder, taking up Joy’s hand and holding tight. And again, even as Cooper is walking away from him, the fact that he’s so attached to Joy reminds Blaine that Cooper -- or at least, most of Cooper -- wants to be here with them. Head swimming and fatigue starting to set in, Blaine sighs and repositions his phone, attention focused back on Kurt on the other end of the line. “I’ve got to go,” he says, trying to sound as apologetic as possible. “Look, can we just -- can we continue this conversation tomorrow when you come over?”

“I’m not particularly comfortable having this conversation with your brother around,” Kurt says awkwardly.

“He’s leaving tomorrow,” Blaine informs him. “He’ll be gone before you even get there.” 

“You want to talk about whether or not we can trust your brother not to say anything to your parents when he’s already on the plane on his way to see them?” Kurt asks, sounding skeptical. 

Blaine sighs and pushes himself up off of the bench, making sure to keep Cooper and Joy in his line of sight. “I can call you later tonight, if you want? Cooper will still be here, but at least he won’t be there.” 

“I don’t want you to worry about Cooper overhearing you --” 

“Okay, do _you_ just want to talk to him?” Blaine huffs, frustrated. 

“ _No_ ,” Kurt insists. “That’s not -- I don’t have anything against your brother, Blaine. I’d just… rather work things through with _you_ , first.” 

“So… tomorrow night then?” Blaine concludes, weaving through the crowd of people toward the area where Cooper and Joy have stopped. 

“I guess,” Kurt sighs. “In the meantime, I’ll just hope that Cooper keeps his promise. I’ll, um -- I’ll come over after work, then. Do you want me to pick up dinner on the way?” 

Blaine softens as he approaches the artist’s booth, mouth twisting into a smile at the sight of Joy perched on Cooper’s lap as they peruse through the catalog of options. “Sure,” Blaine says, a warmth blooming in his chest. “That sounds nice. Thank you.” He finally slows to a stop in front of them, fighting back a laugh as Joy traces invisible patterns onto Cooper’s face. It’s a nice change of pace from the way things have been for the last half hour or so, a distraction from the undercurrent of anxiety Blaine’s been feeling all week. It’s not perfect -- Blaine’s sure that there will be more awkward and uncomfortable moments with Cooper before he leaves tomorrow, but it’s _okay_. It’s okay because Blaine has this, now, and while he trusts that Cooper will keep his promise, Blaine knows that Kurt will keep his. Kurt will come back. 

Kurt will come home. 

Everything feels a little less overwhelming, knowing that. 

“Blaine?” Kurt prompts. 

“Sorry,” Blaine says, refocusing even as Cooper helps Joy get situated in the chair the artist has set up. “Did you -- what were you saying?” 

“I just… had some advice, about Cooper,” Kurt offers. And _that_ definitely keeps Blaine’s attention, because even when he has trouble using his voice and articulating what he’s thinking and feeling and what he wants, Kurt still _hears_ him. “I needed time to process the fact that I was a father,” Kurt reminds him. “You needed time to process the fact that you’re pregnant. Cooper hasn’t even known about the baby for twenty-four hours yet, Blaine,” Kurt points out gently. “Just… give him some time.” 

With a spared glance the beginnings of what Blaine thinks are dragon features being painted onto Joy’s face, Blaine turns away from them for a minute and cradles the phone against his ear, eyes slipping shut. “I _miss_ you,” he breathes. “Tomorrow?” 

And Kurt’s promise leaves no room for doubt. “Tomorrow.” 

* * * * *

Seated at the table late Friday afternoon, Blaine runs his hands over the cover of one of his scrapbooks, searching for an anchor. He feels uneasy about sending Cooper off to see their parents without having resolved things with Kurt. He can’t seek comfort in Kurt, not until Kurt gets here in a couple of hours and they sit and talk things out. And when Blaine feels off-balance and he can’t depend on Kurt to steady and right him, Blaine usually turns to Joy. But she’s in the living room right now helping Cooper pack up his things before he leaves for the airport, and Blaine doesn’t want to take away from any time she has left with Cooper this visit. So Blaine has turned to something tangible in her stead, the book beneath his hands ready for a standing date with Kurt, if things turn out okay.

Blaine takes a deep breath and grips the edges of the book.

Things _will_ be okay.

Blaine opens the book to the first page, a familiar photograph greeting him. It’s a picture of him holding Joy in the hospital on the day she was born, the same one that’s framed on the wall of her bedroom. There are photographs of the two of them all over the apartment -- in his bedroom, in Joy’s, in the living room (none in the kitchen, though, which Blaine hopes to rectify soon). It’s selfish, Blaine knows, because they’re really more for him than they are for Joy. They serve as a reminder of how he’d felt when he’d held her for the first time, full of hope again.

He’s grabbed this one in particular because it’s next in the series for Kurt, but it’s also a reminder of what’s to come, later in the year. The first several pages are scattered with the days after Joy’s birth, his parents and Cooper each holding Joy in turn. It’d taken at least a week before Cooper would actually hold her, the photograph on the page serving as a reminder of how tentative he’d been with her for at least the first year. He’s gradually become more relaxed the older she’s gotten, after she’d started walking and talking and was a little less dependent. Blaine still doesn’t totally understand it, but the old photograph reminds him how far Cooper has come, and it’s with a new understanding that Blaine realizes that Kurt was right.

Cooper just needs time.

They’ve all needed time, in their own ways. And really, _that’s_ the part that’s hard for Blaine, when there are no secrets left to share, but the aftermath is a slow burn. He’d struggled with Kurt needing time to process that he is Joy’s father, even though Blaine absolutely supported the time he took to do it. He’d struggled with trying to process this pregnancy, at first, frustrated that he’d taken so long to think it over and try to figure out what he wanted. Change is what follows truth, and growth is what follows change. Change is the interim, and for all that Blaine feels better pacing it out, he can also understand Kurt’s desire to just get it over with, sometimes. Change is _hard_ , and knowing that it’s coming has made Blaine hesitant to share truths at times. It’s what he’d done after he’d reconnected with Kurt last fall, keeping the secret tucked away even though his father had warned him about holding onto it for too long.

And with the faces of his parents looking up at him from the pages, the reality of what he has to do sinks into his skin.

He has to tell his parents about the pregnancy -- the sooner, the better.

With a resigned sigh and a hand resting over the swell of his stomach, Blaine realizes that Kurt’s point was -- is entirely valid. It’s not about not trusting Cooper -- Blaine does trust him. It’s what all of them believe -- that the news should come from Blaine. The longer Blaine waits to tell his parents, the more likely it is that the focus will be elsewhere. Blaine’s not worried about losing their support, but he also remembers how hurt Kurt had been that Blaine had waited so long to tell him about Joy. Blaine’s not sure if the same thing would happen if he waited a long time to tell his parents, but he knows how easy it is for the focus to shift. If his parents don’t take the news well or have issues with him waiting too long to tell them, he won’t be able to continue trying to view this pregnancy as a good thing, to be happy about it. And asking Cooper to be a silent buffer until Blaine tells them isn’t fair. He’s going to have to tell them before Cooper gets there.

Blaine’s going to have to tell his parents tonight.

Yesterday, Blaine had felt like Kurt was pushing him out of his skin. Blaine realizes now that he needed that push. Where Kurt needs space, Blaine needs to be pushed. It’s how they’ve always been, really, even when they were teenagers. They were so ill-equipped to handle that, back then, communication and understanding faltering over time. But they’re not seventeen anymore, and with the time apart and the second chance they’re taking, growth comes much easier to them. It’s easier to recognize when they’re slipping up, easier to put pride aside and own up to being wrong. Growth is what follows change, and Blaine loves everything about it. Kurt grows into the space he needs, connections longer, stronger. And Blaine isn’t being pushed out of his skin now -- he’s being pushed to grow into it.

“She was so little.”

Blaine glances up at Cooper, who is looking down at the scrapbook. “She was a baby,” Blaine laughs, leaning against the back of the chair. His amusement is brief, dampened when Cooper fixes him with that _look_ again, eyes falling to where Blaine’s hand is resting over his stomach. Knowing that he needs to take the same approach with Cooper that he does with Kurt, Blaine inhales sharply and changes the subject, trying to give Cooper time and space. “You all packed?”

“Yeah,” Cooper affirms. “I, uh, I set up a movie for Joy. I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” Blaine assures him. “We’re not going to eat until Kurt gets here, anyway. It’ll be good to have her occupied for a little while. Unless you’ve changed your mind and want us to accompany you to the airport?”

Cooper rolls his eyes and moves to the refrigerator, unearthing a new water bottle. “It’s silly for you to go with me all the way to the airport when you’ll just have to turn right around and take a taxi back. I’m not letting you waste your time or your money.”

“Okay,” Blaine relents, laughing a little again. It’s weirdly responsible of Cooper to think about something like that, but he’s gotten a lot better in the last year or so, particularly since he landed a role as a series regular on his daytime drama. It’s brought a lot of stability and consistency to Cooper’s life where there wasn’t before, enabling him to be self-sufficient in a way that even Blaine isn’t yet. There’s still something haphazard about the way that Cooper makes his way through life, but there are times when the collisions feel almost calculated. It’s almost like Cooper feels more capable than he did before, and Blaine’s seen that reflected in Cooper’s relationship and interactions with Joy. Still, the way Cooper is looking at him is so different from that, expression clouded with an emotion Blaine still can’t pin down, Cooper’s silence betraying words he won’t say.

Blaine trusts him, but he has to give Cooper a reprieve.

“Listen,” Blaine says slowly, sitting up a little. “About the pregnancy -- you don’t have to keep it from Mom and Dad.”

Cooper narrows his eyes a little, expression a mixture of surprise and confusion. “I… don’t want to tell them for you.”

“No, that’s not what -- I’m going to tell them,” Blaine clarifies. “As long as Kurt’s on board, I’ll call Dad while you’re on the plane tonight and tell him myself.”

Cooper’s exhale is audible, heavy and weighted with relief. “Thanks,” he says. “That’s -- that’s good. Will you, uh, will you text me before my plane lands to let me know for sure whether or not you’ve told him? Not that I think you won’t, or anything,” Cooper adds quickly. “But just in case something comes up and you can’t or Kurt’s not on board or something. I don’t want to just assume that you’ve told them and then make it this _thing_ \--”

“I promise I’ll text you,” Blaine assures him. “But I’m guessing that when I call Dad, he’s going to be at the airport waiting for you. And I think Dad will think it’s better to tell Mom in person, so…”

“So what, you want us to tag team?” Cooper guesses, not looking all that thrilled at the prospect.

“Not exactly,” Blaine hedges. “Dad can tell Mom. You don’t have to do that. But you know Mom -- she’ll worry. I don’t want her to worry. And since you’ll have just seen me, you can reassure her that I’m fine.”

Cooper studies him for a long moment before answering. “I can do that,” he agrees, “as long as you promise that you’ll let us know right away if you aren’t.”

And _there’s_ Cooper.

With a soft smile, Blaine pushes himself to his feet and closes the distance between them, standing up on tip-toe to engulf Cooper in a warm hug. “I promise,” he mumbles into Cooper’s shoulder. He only lingers for a moment, but Cooper pulls him in tight again when Blaine tries to pull away, mumbling _hold on a second_. “Nope,” Blaine says, pulling away. “You are absolutely not allowed to use this emotion in a scene someday.”

“Joke’s on you,” Cooper says, pointing at him. “I just filmed something like this recently.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, knowing they don’t have the time to get into it right now. He moves back over to the table and reaches past the scrapbook for an envelope. “Do me a favor,” Blaine says, turning to face him and holding the envelope out. “Give this to Dad on Sunday. It’s his Father’s Day card. I stuck a copy of the ultrasound in there.” Cooper freezes a little, hand gripping the other edge of the envelope. “You are absolutely not allowed to sign your name on my card because you forgot to get one.”

“I’ve still got a day and a half,” Cooper points out. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m kind of the king of last minute plans.”

Blaine can’t help the laugh that escapes him and shoves playfully at Cooper’s shoulder. “Go,” he insists through his laughs. “It’s Friday night. You’re going to run into all kinds of traffic and the security line at the airport is probably going to be ridiculous. You’ve got a good few hours before your flight leaves. Don’t waste them concocting schemes here.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Cooper sighs, moving into the living room and tucking the envelope into his carry-on. He kneels down next to the couch and opens his arms, attention focused on Joy. “Okay, dragon queen,” he sighs dramatically. “Come give your Uncle Coop a hug goodbye.” It takes Joy a minute to clamber down off of the couch and curl up against Cooper, face tucked against his neck. Her energy level is already dropping off, Blaine can tell, and his heart aches a little to see her so disappointed to see Cooper go. “I’ll see you soon,” Cooper promises, rubbing her back soothingly. He glances up at Blaine, eyebrows raised in question. “4th of July?”

“Probably?” Blaine guesses. “I have to talk to Mom and Dad and Kurt about it, first, but I don’t start work until after the holiday, so I think we’ll be able to swing it.”

Cooper pulls back a little and offers Joy a smile, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Next time I see you, we can play the dragon game again, okay? And you can tell me what you decided to name your giraffe.” Joy nods in understanding but doesn’t speak, prompting Cooper to kiss her cheek. “Love you, munchkin.”

“Love you,” Joy mumbles back, reluctantly pulling back.

Cooper pushes himself to his feet and turns his attention to Blaine. Blaine allows Cooper to tug him into one last hug, noting how much gentler this one is. The ache in Blaine’s chest starts to carve out space, readying itself for Cooper’s departure. “You’ll let me know if you’ve told him by the time I get to Ohio?” Cooper checks.

Blaine nods as he pulls away. “Text me when you land? Let me know you got there okay?”

“I will,” Cooper promises, moving past him to grab his suitcases. Blaine opens the door for him, shaking his head as Cooper struggles to roll his suitcases out into the hallway behind him. “Say goodbye to Kurt for me?”

And just like that, the ache in Blaine’s chest starts to dull and fade, because he is not -- _they_ are not alone. They’ll never really be alone again.

Kurt is almost home.

Blaine nods his assent and offers his brother a parting smile and wave before shutting the door after him. Once the door clicks shut, Blaine leans against it and closes his eyes, taking a second to just _breathe_ in the sudden silence. He’s glad to not have much opportunity to be alone anymore (although he hasn’t _really_ been alone in years, not with Joy in his life), but the silent solitude is nice to have every once in a while, especially just after Cooper’s departure.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Joy shuffling down the hallway toward him, clearly having just emerged from her bedroom. In her arms are all three of her favorite stuffed animals -- Margaret, Dino, and the no-name green giraffe. Blaine smiles sadly at her, knowing she must be feeling Cooper’s absence. He pushes himself off of the door and meets her halfway, leaning down to take one of the animals from her to help ease her burden. “Will you watch with me?” she asks, voice quiet.

“Sure,” Blaine agrees amicably, following her around to the front of the couch and helping her arrange the animals in the corner so they can watch the rest of the movie with them. He settles comfortably against the back of the couch, propping up a throw pillow behind him after a moment. Joy’s slow in climbing back up onto the couch, but once she’s up, she wastes no time in curling up against his side, fingers clinging to the fabric of his shirt. Blaine wraps an arm around her and drops a kiss to the top of her head, anchored at last.

The film lasts a little longer than most geared toward her age group do, but Blaine helps to keep her focused and interested by singing along with some of the songs. Still, the film is long enough that even with the brief break earlier to say goodbye to Cooper, Joy’s still feeling the effects of it by the end. She’s off of the couch to use the bathroom as soon as the credits start to roll, leaving Blaine to put the disc back in its case and turn everything off. He’s only just finished when there’s a knock on the front door, and it’s with an unrestrained smile that Blaine goes to answer it.

Blaine opens the door, and Kurt is home.

“I brought pizza,” Kurt says, holding up the box in his hands. Blaine reaches for it without much thought, stepping aside to let Kurt in. Blaine sets the box down on a side table temporarily as Kurt tugs the strap of his bag over his head and sets it on the couch. As soon as the door is shut, Blaine’s arms are around Kurt’s neck, tugging him in for a kiss. Kurt’s hands anchor at Blaine’s waist before sneaking up under the hem of Blaine’s shirt, nails dragging up along the skin of Blaine’s back. It’s so _nice_ to be touched like this again, unabashed and unrestrained and _wanted_. There’s no hesitation or fear or awkward avoidance, just Kurt embracing and digging into every inch of Blaine’s skin.

Slowly, Kurt fingers start to relax until his palms are resting flat against the small of Blaine’s back. He’s the one to break the kiss, but Blaine stays close, unwilling to pull away. It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in a week, and somewhere along the way the wires in his brain cross, blurring the desires to say _Thank you for the pizza_ and _I’ve missed you_. So what ends up coming out, quiet and mumbled against Kurt’s mouth, is “I’ve missed the pizza.” Kurt grins against his mouth, causing Blaine to rethink what he’s just said. “Um, that’s not --”

But Kurt just leans in to kiss him again, smile never faltering. “I’ve missed the pizza, too.”

God, Blaine couldn’t be anymore in love with him.

Kurt’s hands come to rest at Blaine’s hips as he puts a little space between them, smile a little more serious. “And thank you,” Kurt adds, “for giving me space when I asked for it. I realize that it could’ve turned into this huge _thing_ , but --”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asks, a little confused.

Kurt drops his gaze for a moment, voice a little quieter. “I think you could’ve easily taken my leaving early as an excuse to question whether or not I really want to be here,” he says. He flicks his gaze back up and doesn’t look away again. “But you didn’t.”

“I know you want to be here,” Blaine assures him, “but I also know that we’re in the middle of dealing with a _lot_ right now. Having Cooper around complicates things. But you don’t have to worry about him.”

Kurt bites his lip, looking uncomfortable. “We really don’t have to talk about this right now,” he hedges. “We can just wait until after --”

“No, that’s not --” Blaine huffs out a slightly amused laugh, unfurling his arms from around Kurt’s neck to take up Kurt’s hands in his own. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you were right, yesterday. Not about not trusting Cooper -- that’s… kind of a whole other thing. But I should tell my parents sooner rather than later, and… to be fair to Cooper, I should really do it before he gets there. So as long as you don’t have any objections, after we have dinner and put Joy to bed, I was going to call my dad and tell him the news.”

Kurt looks a little more skeptical than Blaine was anticipating. “Are you sure?” Kurt asks, sounding hesitant. “I don’t want you to agree to do this just because you feel like you’re being backed into a corner or you think it’ll make me feel better.”

And more than ever, Blaine knows that he’s doing the right thing. It’s not just the right thing for everyone -- it’s the right thing for _him_ , too. He finally feels like he’s at a place where he’s not just sure of the decisions he makes as an adult and a parent, but he’s sure that he’s okay with them, that they feel right to him. Blaine loves Kurt, he does, and he loves making Kurt happy. But Blaine has spent the last few months realizing that he makes Kurt happy simply by being himself, and part of who Blaine is _now_ is a person who doesn’t try quite so hard to please other people. With a comfortable smile, Blaine takes one of Kurt’s hands and rests it over the slight swell of his stomach. “I’m sure.” Kurt’s eyes drop down to where Blaine has moved his hand, and almost imperceptibly, Kurt softens and smiles. “And, in the interest of fairness,” Blaine continues, “since I’m telling my parents tonight, you can tell yours, too.” Kurt looks back up at him, something indiscernible in his eyes. “Not that you need my _permission_ or anything,” Blaine amends, a little flustered. “I mean, it’s definitely something we should talk about, before either of us does it. I just -- it’s Friday night, so you’re going to call your dad anyway, right?”

“Right,” Kurt echoes quietly.

Blaine squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to, if you’re not ready. I just thought you might want to.”

“I do,” Kurt says thickly, wrapping Blaine up in a warm hug. “I do.”

Blaine nuzzles his face against Kurt’s neck, breathing a little easier. “My family is important to me,” he murmurs. “And I _know_ how important yours is to you.”

Kurt pulls back just enough to look at him properly. “Yeah, you are.”

“Kurt?”

They pull apart a little, Kurt turning around at the sound of Joy’s voice as she approaches them. “Hi,” he greets warmly, face lighting up a little. He releases his hold on Blaine and leans down once she’s close enough, obliging her silent request to be lifted up into his arms. “Did you have fun with your Uncle Cooper?”

Joy nods, her fingers already tracing the dizzying floral pattern of Kurt’s shirt. “But he had to go.”

Kurt’s shoulders sag a little, but Blaine thinks he can see a new understanding start to dawn on Kurt’s face. “I bet you miss him.”

Another nod, but this time Joy stops the movement of her hands to look up at Kurt. “Are you going to stay?” she asks.

Kurt inhales sharply, something in his expression shifting, but he nods in affirmation all the same. “Yeah,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll stay.” It’s the same promise Blaine heard Kurt make to Joy over a month ago, when it was her birthday and she hadn’t seen him in several weeks. Blaine thinks it’s clear to both of them, now, that even though she had been preoccupied and happy with Cooper’s presence over the last week, she’d also clearly felt Kurt’s absence. Joy’s probably missed Kurt as much as Blaine has, as much as Kurt has missed them both.

Kurt is home, now, and they can start to move the pieces into place.

Dinner is different than it has been all week, but not in a bad way. It’s at least a little quieter. The thing is, being around Cooper -- particularly at mealtimes -- is always an event. It’s not the same organized place settings and utensils and napkin rings that it’d been when they were growing up, but it’s still something that requires more effort and energy. Dinner becomes more of a necessity, fuel to get through everything else. It’s haphazardly organized chaos, conversation continuous as they sort of boomerang their way through events. But it’s also always comfortable, Blaine feeling at ease the way sometimes people only can around their family -- blood, found, or otherwise.

It’s different, with Kurt. It always has been. It’s still easy in the way being around family is, but it’s so much more relaxed and fluid. Dinner is like a choreographed dance -- no one cuts each other off or gets in the way or makes someone feel claustrophobic by crowding into personal space. It’s _easy_ , and Blaine breathes through it rather than enduring it and taking breath at the end of it. Dinner with Kurt just _fits_ in a way that dinner with Cooper or the rest of Blaine’s family doesn’t. There is always a place for his family, but with the distance, Blaine always feels like they’re trying to make room for each other again. Kurt is becoming part of their routine (and he’ll be here permanently, eventually, the back of Blaine’s mind supplies), but there is always a place for him here, with them.

Tonight, Joy ends up doing most of the talking through dinner, thanks to their prompting. She regals Kurt with tales of her adventures with Cooper throughout the past week, slowly coming back out of the shell she’s retreated into the past few hours. She even deigns to try the artichoke hearts that Kurt had ordered for the pizza and ends up eating three or four, lips smacking in satisfaction at the salty-sweet taste.

There are things that aren’t so different from Cooper being here -- at least, not tonight. Blaine still backs off when it comes to overtaking the rest of the nighttime routine, preferring instead to let Kurt get his fill after being away from Joy a little longer than usual. So Kurt handles bathtime and a bedtime story, finally getting around to Lucy the ghost again. But it’s different than when Cooper had been here, too, because Blaine doesn’t find himself absolutely needing an anchor just so he doesn’t vibrate out of his skin. He doesn’t need to seek out Joy or even Kurt, because knowing that they are _there_ is enough to make Blaine feel comfortable within his own four walls again.

Still, Blaine wants to end Joy’s night on a lighter and less melancholy note, so he joins them after they’ve finished the book, sinking down at the foot of Joy’s bed and exchanging a smile with Kurt. Kurt drops a kiss to Joy’s head, hand rubbing at her back soothingly as he rocks the chair. Joy’s quiet, though, and after a moment Blaine realizes that she’s not going to make a request. So Blaine takes the lead this time, finding his voice with ease as he starts to [sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6AKxud0VLI). Kurt smiles knowingly before joining him a few lines in, the pair of them alternating sets until they finally harmonize on the beginning of the last set, all the way through to _tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you_.

Blaine pushes himself to his feet as Kurt carries Joy to the bed to tuck her in, the photograph on the wall catching Blaine’s eye again. And it’s only _then_ that Blaine remembers what else he had felt like back then. Telling his parents that he was pregnant the first time around was hard enough. They’d been walking on eggshells around him ever since his break-up with Kurt, unsure how to handle the situation -- how to handle _him_. Being unable to get in touch with Kurt had left Blaine feeling strung out and desperate and lost, adrift and looking for an anchor. He remembers _barely_ being able to tell his parents, remembers the warmth of his mother’s arms around him and his father’s quiet questions. And he remembers that when he felt like he was drowning under the overwhelming weight of his aching heart, his father had helped the only way he’d known how -- by giving Blaine a safe space.

Things were different, after Joy was born. Blaine was happier than he’d been in a long time, but his newfound hope and optimism had been tampered by an undercurrent of anxiety as well. He’d wanted Joy and was resolved to keep her and raise her, but he’d also known that he wouldn’t have been able to do it without his parents’ support. He’d been less nervous to tell his mother because she’d taken prodigiously good care of him while he struggled with depression all through his pregnancy. He’d figured she’d understand his change of heart and mind, and she had. He’d been more nervous about telling his father, because up until that point, his father had never really been all that great about understanding Blaine’s feelings. But his mother had broken the news to his father, and by the time Blaine actually _saw_ his dad in the hospital after Joy’s birth, the worst he’d gotten was a heavy and resigned sigh as his father had sunken into a chair before asking to hold his granddaughter.

As Blaine follows Kurt out into the hallway and shuts Joy’s door behind them, he feels bindingly fragile again, like he’s broken open and one step above rock bottom, hoping his parents will give him the tools he needs to get back up. It’s… unnerving in a way Blaine wasn’t exactly anticipating, and not for the first time this week, Blaine feels like he’s a teenager again. And underneath all of that, Blaine recognizes the same feeling he’d had with Cooper this week.

He just wants someone else to be as happy about this as he and Kurt have come to be.

Blaine takes a deep breath to clear his head and manages a weak smile as Kurt turns to face him in the hallway. “I can make my call from the bedroom if you want to make yours from the living room,” Blaine offers. “That way we’re not talking over each other.”

Kurt’s brow furrows a little. “Are you… sure you want to do this tonight?”

“Yeah,” Blaine assures him. “It’s just… nervous anticipation, that’s all.”

Kurt reaches out for Blaine’s hand and twines their fingers together. “Would you rather us make the calls together? We can call your parents first, and then mine, if that would make you feel better.”

Blaine softens into a smile but shakes his head. “No, I think it’s better this way. It’ll take less time. And this way, we won’t be anxious about waiting to see how the other’s parents are going to react to it. To be honest, I’d rather just… deal with my parents and have you tell me how it went with yours after.”

“You really don’t think they’re going to take it well, do you?” Kurt muses.

Blaine sighs and rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Cooper didn’t take it well -- or at least, I think he didn’t.”

“Cooper probably needs time,” Kurt reminds him gently. “Your parents deserve the same thing, Blaine.”

“It’s not… like that,” Blaine says awkwardly. “It’s -- this isn’t the first time I’ve told my parents I’m pregnant, Kurt. And last time I got… low,” he admits quietly. “My parents are just going to be coming at it from a different place, that’s all.”

Kurt’s expression shifts until he’s wearing this broken little smile, and he lifts his hands up to cup Blaine’s face. “You have me this time,” Kurt reminds him, “but more importantly, we are not the same people we were back then. And I stand by what I said before. Give them time to see this the way we do -- as a second chance. As something _good_.”

And all at once, a warmth blossoms in Blaine’s chest, all the way down to his toes. He shifts a little and presses a kiss to Kurt’s palm, smiling against the skin there. He’s always thought of Joy as his something good out of the painful aftermath of their break-up, a happy accident. Blaine wants so much for this child to be the same under better -- although still less than ideal -- circumstances. Blaine needed time to see it that way, to realize that he wanted this. Kurt keeps reminding him that they all need time, in their own ways. They’ve both been on the giving and receiving ends of that, and when it comes to his parents, Blaine realizes that if they need the time, he owes it to them. When he’d been at his lowest during his first pregnancy, his parents had given him time and space to feel safe enough to pick up the pieces.

Closing the distance between them, Blaine loops his arms around Kurt’s neck and curls in close, face nuzzled against Kurt’s neck.

It’s time to start moving pieces into place, and tucked in Kurt’s arms, Blaine feels safe enough to try.

It’s going to be okay.

“Okay,” Blaine mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to Kurt’s cheek before pulling away. “Go call your parents. And after we’re done,” he adds, “we can look through another one of the scrapbooks.”

Kurt smiles and presses a warm kiss to Blaine’s lips. “It’s a date.”

They head down the hallway in opposite directions, Blaine’s lips tingling as he digs his phone out of his pocket. He’s starting to get a little uncomfortable in his jeans, waistband and button digging into his skin. Once he’s in his room, he opts to change into pajamas first, knowing he’ll be more comfortable than if he justs undoes the button and zipper on his jeans. When he collapses onto his back on the bed, his sleep shirt rides up a little, exposing the taut skin around his belly. And with his chin tucked against his chest, phone in hand, it occurs to Blaine, then, that he was around this far along in his last pregnancy when he told his parents, give or take a few weeks.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

But things are different this time -- _he_ is different. Blaine is in a different place, mentally, emotionally. He’s not questioning his choices or looking for affirmation or suffering heartbreak or kicking himself for the mistakes he’s made. He’s not seventeen anymore. He’s an adult, and he realizes that he could’ve made some better choices, but regrets almost go hand in hand with what ifs, these days. Blaine doesn’t like to waste his time with them because they make him feel worse, not better. And everything about this is supposed to be better than it was last time. It’s certainly not the easiest choice that he -- they -- could have made, but it’s one he’s sure of. This is something he wants, and he is choosing to be happy. He didn’t feel like he had that choice, last time.

Happiness kind of just… found him, in the end.

And the more Blaine thinks about it, the less nervous he is about telling his parents. _They_ are different people now, too, and in the stress that the last week or so has been, Blaine’s almost forgotten that. It makes sense to him, now, that Kurt didn’t seem as worried about telling Blaine’s parents about the pregnancy as he did about the news not coming from Blaine. Granted, the only time Kurt has spent around Blaine’s parents since their reconciliation was the weekend of Joy’s birthday, but Blaine remembers trying to soothe Kurt’s frazzled nerves, then. Blaine had stressed how supportive his parents have been, and he remembers making a point to say that his parents are not the people Kurt may have thought they were. They’re not even the people Blaine used to think they were, and it’s only in hindsight that Blaine realizes that his high opinion of them now stems largely from the way they’d handled his pregnancy, last time. And last month, before Joy’s birthday, before Kurt had come back, Blaine’s dad had helped keep Blaine’s hope for Kurt alive.

It’s going to be okay.

Head tossed back against a pillow, Blaine takes one last breath before finding his dad’s name in his list of contacts and pressing _call_. It rings several times before there’s finally a _click_ , and the warmth in his father’s answering tone is enough to make Blaine relax a little more. “Hey,” his dad greets, voice echoing a little. “I had to try and find a quieter place to take your call. I’m at the airport waiting for your brother.”

Blaine smiles. “I figured you would be.”

“Did you forget to send something along with him?” his dad asks.

“Please,” Blaine laughs dryly. “Out of the two of us, I am not the forgetful one.”

“Fair enough,” his dad laughs in return.

“I, uh -- I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” Blaine says, composing himself a little.

“Oh, the um -- plans for Independence Day, yeah?” his father guesses. “I know you said you didn’t start work until after the holiday, so your mother and I figured we’d just fly you and Joy out for a few days like we’ve done the last couple of years.”

“Oh, that’s, uh -- I’m not a hundred percent sure about it yet?” Blaine admits, caught off guard. “I should be able to swing it, but I kind of wanted to talk to Kurt before I made any concrete plans. The holiday is on a Monday, so Kurt probably has a long weekend. I’m not sure if he was planning on going back to see his parents or not.”

“Okay, so… what, you think we should be planning some big family barbeque if he does?” his dad muses.

“What? No,” Blaine huffs. “That’s not what I -- I mean, it’d be nice if we could use the visit to our advantage like that, but that’s not really what I was worried about. I’m just trying to figure out logistics regarding Joy, is all. If he’s staying in New York, I just want to make sure he doesn’t have some huge issue with me taking her to Ohio for a long weekend. Not that I think he _will_ , or anything. I just -- we agreed that Kurt was going to spend more time with her before we told her the truth about him. And anyway, I wouldn’t want to do a big thing like bring his parents in for a big get-together if she didn’t know he was her father. That wouldn’t make any sense.”

“Okay…” his father says slowly. “So… what _did_ you call to talk to me about?”

Blaine inhales sharply to curb the nerves that bubble up in his stomach and resolves to keep his voice as light as he possibly can. “Uh, I’m -- I’m pregnant.”

His father is quiet on the other end for a long moment, the faint echoes of airport announcements filling the otherwise silent lull. But even with the extra background noise, Blaine can hear it when his dad takes a long, measured breath before speaking. “Okay, that’s -- wow,” his dad says, sounding a little surprised. “Um, I’m… assuming that you telling me means you’re going through with it,” his dad figures.

“I am,” Blaine confirms, careful to keep his voice even. He knows he’ll have to explain at least some of how and why this is happening, but an explanation is not necessarily a justification, he reminds himself. His dad asking questions is okay. “Kurt and I both took a lot of time to think about it and figure out what we wanted before we talked it over and made a decision.”

“That’s a lot different than last time,” his dad observes. And he’s sort of stating the obvious, but there’s something in his tone that gives Blaine pause and makes him bite his tongue and listen, instead. “I, uh, I take it that you really want this, then.”

“I do,” Blaine admits quietly. “We both do.”

“And you’re sure that _you_ want this?” his dad checks.

“ _Yes_ ,” Blaine says thinly. “I’m not doing this just because Kurt wants to, Dad. I want -- this is like a second chance for us in a so many ways. Kurt missed out on so much with Joy, and I was… _so_ unhappy last time. And it’s not like we love Joy any less because of all of that, or anything, but we’re viewing this as a good thing, even if we didn’t exactly plan for it.”

“Believe me, I know nothing’s going to change the way you feel about her,” his father says kindly. A beat, and then, “You sound happy, actually. After last time, I think that’s the most I could ask for out of this.”

Blaine’s chest aches with affection, his eyes watering a little. “I _am_ happy,” he promises. “I mean, admittedly, I’m a little overwhelmed, too, since we’ve got so much going on right now and things are changing. I’m aware that the timing isn’t exactly great to try and bring a baby into the mix,” he owns, a little flustered but wanting to at least be honest with his dad. “And I’m not naive enough to think that I can do this without you guys continuing to support us for a little while, but I don’t want you to think I’m just making assumptions or trying to take advantage of the fact that I know you’re going to help out. Not that I’m worried about it or anything, and I’m sure Kurt’s going to pull his weight and pitch in --”

“Relax,” his dad laughs. “I appreciate that you’re being aware and responsible about this, and I do agree that the timing of it is kind of horrendous, but you’re not seventeen anymore, Blaine. You don’t exactly need our approval to do this or be happy about it.” He pauses, briefly, before adding, “Something tells me that you were expecting a different reaction, though.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Blaine admits, a little sheepishly. “I just -- I didn’t want it to be like last time,” he says. “And logically, I know that things are different this time around, but I wasn’t totally sure what to expect. We’re generally happy about it, but I wasn’t expecting you to be thrilled.”

“Well, I’m still kind of processing,” his dad admits, causing Blaine’s lips to twist into a knowing smile. “But I’m not -- I’m not _mad_ or anything, Blaine. I’m not disappointed. Believe it or not, I know what this feels like, in a way. Cooper wasn’t exactly planned. Neither were you. Your mother and I always knew we wanted kids, but the when of it all just sort of happened to us, rather than allowing us to plan for it. I’ve been in your shoes, Blaine -- more than once. I know what it’s like to take what life throws at you and just sort of roll with it by finding the good in a less than ideal situation. I mean, we were a little older than you, but that’s just a matter of differences in circumstances.”

“And, uh, you don’t think that we’re a little crazy for trying to have a baby under these circumstances?” Blaine ventures.

“Oh, you’re definitely crazy,” his dad deadpans, causing Blaine to bark out a laugh. “I mean, there is nothing about what you’re doing that’s going to be easy at all. But I think you know that, and from the sound of it, you really want to do this. And I know you, Blaine. I know that when you commit to something, you’re all-in. You proved that with Joy. Honestly, I’m more worried that Kurt’s not totally sure what he’s getting himself into. It’s one thing to decide to be a parent to Joy. It’s another to have another baby on top of that.”

Blaine closes his eyes for a minute, oddly at peace. His father’s slight doubt even amongst his support isn’t enough to make Blaine worry. Blaine knows Kurt -- he knows who Kurt is, now, and what Kurt wants. He knows Kurt wants to be here, believes in the promises Kurt’s made. He _trusts_ Kurt, and Blaine thinks it’s a testament to that trust that he’s never even really questioned whether or not Kurt would be able to handle it. Blaine may go all-in, but he hasn’t always been like that. Kurt _has_ , and if anything, it’s Kurt’s commitment to this pregnancy and the baby they’ll get out of it that gives Blaine the confidence to know that he can do this. They both can, because they’re in this together. “Kurt’s not going anywhere,” Blaine says, quiet but sure. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” his father relents. “May I… offer a piece of advice, then?”

“Sure,” Blaine sighs amicably, opening his eyes and sitting up a little.

“Remember when I told you that you should tell Kurt the truth about Joy sooner rather than later?” his father asks. Blaine _hmms_ in affirmation, exhaling sharply. He’s got an idea of where his dad’s going with this, and with the nudges that Blaine’s been getting all week just to tell his parents that he’s pregnant, Blaine’s not entirely sure he wants to hear this right now. “I think the same applies for telling Joy the truth about Kurt,” his father says, not unkindly. “She’s only three, Blaine. She’s going to need time to process and adjust to the idea and what it means.”

“I know.”

“I know you do,” his dad says, sounding patient. “The point I’m trying to make is that it’s honestly probably the biggest thing you’ve got to deal with right now, and the fact that you’re having a baby puts a deadline on it. You already said you won’t introduce her to Kurt’s parents until she knows that Kurt is her father. I’m assuming the same is true for telling _Joy_ about the baby. At some point, you’re going to have to tell her or she’s going to start asking questions. And that on top of learning that Kurt is her father is a _lot_ for a three-year-old, Blaine. You have to give her time.”

_Oh_.

_Joy_ needs time, too.

“I will… keep that in mind,” Blaine promises, mulling the thought over for a minute before filing it away to talk about with Kurt later. He inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose, ready to put change to rest for at least the rest of the night. “Will you, um, do me a favor?”

“You want me to tell your mother for you, don’t you?”

Blaine scrunches his nose a little. “I figure she’ll take it better if someone tells her in person, otherwise I’d call her myself. Cooper can help?” he offers. “I mean, I promised him that you’d tell her, but he said he’d reassure her that I’m okay and she doesn’t need to worry. You know, since he just saw me and everything.”

“Your brother knows that you’re pregnant?” his father asks, sounding surprised and a little… reserved.

“Yeah,” Blaine says awkwardly. “He kind of just… found out while he was here. I don’t think he took it as well as you seem to be.”

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” his dad sighs. Blaine’s brow furrows in confusion, but his dad doesn’t give him the chance to ask any questions. “Okay, I’ll tell your mother for you, but I’m almost positive she’s going to call you tomorrow and talk to you about it anyway.”

“That’s fine,” Blaine assures him. “I just figured it would be really late by the time you and Cooper got back to the house.”

“It will be,” his dad agrees. “Actually, I should probably go wait outside of security for him. His flight’s going to land soon. Let me know about Independence Day? We can use the frequent flyer miles, so you don’t have to worry about rushing or anything.”

“I will,” Blaine promises. “And… Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Blaine breathes, “for understanding.”

“I like to think I’m getting better at it,” his dad teases, but there’s an obvious sincerity in his voice. “Good night, Blaine.” Blaine breathes a little easier once he hangs up the phone, any trace of his previous nerves gone.

It’s _okay_.

And in the comfort of his own skin and his own four walls with his daughter and boyfriend just down the hall, Blaine knows that even with six hundred miles between them, his family is still here.

He is not alone.

Hand anchored over the slight swell of his stomach and eyes trained on the photograph of him and Joy on the nightstand, Blaine knows he will never be alone again.

Smiling, Blaine pushes himself to his feet and turns off the light in the bedroom before heading down the hall to the kitchen to retrieve the scrapbook. Kurt’s still on the phone when Blaine joins him in the living room, a soft smile on his face while he talks to his father. He glances up at Blaine once Blaine’s in his line of vision, answering Blaine’s questioning expression with a silently mouthed _almost done_. Blaine takes the cue as permission to sink down on the couch next to him and relaxes against the cushions, scrapbook resting innocuously in his lap. True to his word, Kurt’s only on the phone for another minute or two, promising to call again on Sunday and parting with laughter and _love you_ s. He sets his phone on the coffee table and turns his smile onto Blaine, and really, it’s all the answer Blaine needs, but he asks anyway. “How’d it go?”

“It went well,” Kurt says, seemingly unable to stop smiling. “They were a little surprised, obviously, and I think they were a little worried I was getting in over my head with everything else going on. But overall, I think they’re actually a little… excited about it. You know, first grandbaby and all,” he laughs. He stops abruptly, though, inhaling sharply before rushing to add, “Not that they’re not still looking forward to meeting Joy,” he amends. “They just didn’t get to --”

“I get it,” Blaine assures him. “Although, I’m really not comfortable introducing her to your parents until after we’ve told her about you.”

“That makes perfect sense to me,” Kurt says, relaxing against the cushions with Blaine. “What about you? How’d your parents take it?”

“I only talked to my dad, since he was at the airport waiting for Cooper,” Blaine reminds him. “But, um, he was actually pretty understanding? Logical and hesitant and concerned in the way that only parents are when you’re making major life decisions, but I think he was almost… empathetic. It was kind of nice.”

“Not the same person you used to think he was,” Kurt muses.

“No,” Blaine agrees. “And the thing is, I’ve known that for years at this point. I just… needed to be reminded, is all.”

“Well,” Kurt sighs, “if this is the type of person your dad’s turned out to be, I’m looking forward to actually getting to know him this time around.” Blaine rolls his eyes but can’t help the laugh that bubbles up out of him. Kurt bites back a teasing smile before dropping his gaze down to the scrapbook in Blaine’s lap and moving a hand to rest atop the cover. “But… Joy first?”

With a fond smile, Blaine shifts and situates them so his back is resting against Kurt’s chest, Kurt’s arm wrapped around him. Blaine bends his knees to prop the scrapbook up for better viewing, and for the second time today, he opens up to the first page. “Joy first.”

* * * * *

As Blaine changes into his pajamas on Saturday night, he can hear the faint sounds of Joy’s laughter drifting down the hallway as Kurt gives her a bath. It’s nice to hear Joy this happy after Cooper’s departure, but more than that, it’s nice that Kurt’s presence makes her this happy. He’s only been back for a little over a month, and he only stays over three nights a week right now, but it’s obviously enough for Joy to feel comfortable around him again. It bodes well for what’s to come.

Blaine’s just finished slipping into a shirt when his phone chimes from where it rests on the nightstand, indicating the arrival of a text message. He reaches for it distractedly, figuring it’s another message from his mother -- she’s been texting him infrequently throughout the day after she’d called this morning, and while Blaine appreciates the concern and suggestions, he kind of just wants to not think about anything stressful or related to change or logistics for a little while. With a sigh, he thumbs over the screen until the message opens.

_Rachel Berry: Hey! I know we haven’t really talked since we went to dinner, but how do you feel about grabbing coffee soon?_

Blaine’s fingers freeze over the screen, unable to tap out an answer. He’d forgotten about Rachel, mostly, in the couple of months since he’s seen her. They haven’t really texted or called or e-mailed at all. Blaine was pretty resigned to their surreptitious dinner being a one time thing -- old friends catching up. It’s why he never mentioned running into Rachel to Kurt. There wasn’t really any point. Any mention of Rachel just seems to agitate Kurt, and even though Blaine had gotten the distinct impression that Rachel was a different person than the one either of them knew back then, there hadn’t been any follow-up to warrant bringing her up.

At least not until now.

He’s not really sure what to do with this message, honestly. There’s a part of him that thinks about how upset Kurt would be over Blaine’s reconnection with Rachel, regardless of how brief or inconsequential. Blaine knows that Rachel is reaching out to him -- the why is still a mystery. But Blaine also gets the feeling that if he accepts and encourages Rachel in rekindling their friendship, he’s going to have to tell Kurt about it eventually. And even if Kurt never sees her or speaks to her, even if Blaine never mentions her beyond the occasional reference, Blaine knows that the connection is tangential enough for Kurt to probably be _really_ bothered by it.

The thing is, Blaine is at a place now where he doesn’t make every decision thinking only about what’s best for Kurt. He still thinks about Kurt’s feelings and well-being, obviously, and he wants to act in Kurt’s best interest, but Blaine has grown beyond that. Kurt is important to him -- he always has been and always will be. Joy is important to him, too, and in a lot of ways, she’s kind of the most important person in Blaine’s life. She has been for the last three years. But Blaine has spent the last several months learning that it’s okay to be a little selfish, to take care of himself and make decisions based on what he wants or what he thinks is best for him, too, sometimes. Ideally, the easiest decisions would benefit them all, but Blaine knows that’s not always possible. Kurt has spent the last several months encouraging Blaine in this, and it’s _that_ which gives Blaine pause in thinking about responding to Rachel’s message. Blaine doesn’t have the same issues with Rachel that Kurt does. Blaine’s friendship with Rachel ended because _all_ of his relationships did, back then. Blaine had made the decision to withdraw and isolate himself and break connections with people. He knows that’s on him. And -- well, to be honest, Blaine thinks that reconnecting with Rachel might actually be kind of good for him. He hasn’t really had much of a life outside of Joy and the things he does for her in the last three years -- or at least, he didn’t before he reconnected with Kurt. Being with Kurt again has given Blaine space to breathe and be himself, but whenever his relationship with Kurt has been confusing or strained or in question, Blaine has had to turn to his family to find a meaningful connection -- his father, mostly. And it’s not -- Blaine _loves_ his family, he really does. He values his relationship with them in both similar and different ways than he values his relationship with Kurt. But the last several months have sort of made Blaine realize that isolating himself contributed to how low he got, and as wonderful as his relationships with Kurt and Joy and the rest of his family are, having actual friends outside of those relationships is… probably a good idea.

Biting his lip, Blaine rereads the text message from Rachel again and tries to think about the best way to respond. He’s still a little hesitant about the whole thing, given that he’s not sure why exactly Rachel’s reaching out to him. Part of him wants to give her the benefit of the doubt -- they _were_ friends before, and they do still share a decent amount of common ground. But part of him is also suspicious that she might be reaching out to him to get to Kurt. She _had_ asked about Kurt, last time, and Blaine’s still not entirely sure if he’s comfortable talking about Kurt with her just yet. To put off giving her a straight answer right away, he taps out something he hopes will break the ice and diffuse the tension a little, lips twisting into an amused smile.

_...Still 100% gay, Rachel._

He doesn’t get a response immediately, but he doesn’t think he’ll have to wait too long before Rachel replies in some fashion or another. He’s not sure he wants to leave the bedroom to rejoin Kurt until after he’s finished having this conversation with Rachel, though. Plus, staying in here a little longer will afford Kurt the opportunity to take care of Joy’s entire bedtime routine tonight -- bath, books, and lullabies. Blaine sets his phone down on the nightstand again and glances around his bedroom, looking for a distraction. Joy’s voice is still carrying down the hall, though not quite as loudly as before. Now, Kurt’s voice answers her, the cadence of conversation obvious even though the words are indiscernible. Even though Blaine is resolved not to leave the room until he’s finished conversing with Rachel, he still feels drawn to Kurt and Joy, needing his anchors to curb the feelings of uneasiness.

Instead, Blaine draws in a deep breath to steady himself and turns his attention to his bookshelf, eyes falling on the dusty scrapbook tucked in the bottom corner. He hesitates for a moment before crossing the room to retrieve it, and he opts for cleaning the cover first before he settles onto the bed with it. He hasn’t opened this scrapbook in years, not since just after he and Kurt had broken up, just before he’d found out he was pregnant with Joy. He’d been in _such_ a bad place back then, and he’s nervous, now, that opening up this scrapbook again will bring all of those feelings back.

Kurt’s laugh carries from down the hall.

Blaine smiles and opens the scrapbook to the first page.

It’s a little strange to see all of the documentation of their time together before their break-up: their time together with the Warblers; the few months after Kurt had transferred back to McKinley, including prom and his first trip to New York; their first romantic summer; Blaine’s subsequent transfer to McKinley and the wonderful year that followed. Blaine remembers Kurt’s efforts at persuasion, remembers Kurt wanting to spend more time with him. Transferring to McKinley had given them ample opportunities, but that year had also marked significant growth and solidification of Kurt’s friendship with Rachel. Her face pops up every once in a while in the book, happy and beaming and perfectly posed next to them. Her last appearance is with them both (and Finn, Blaine sadly notes), tucked against each other at the table at Callbacks. It’s one of the last photographs in the scrapbook, a fading impression of the bubble of happiness that was about to burst.

Blaine remembers what he’d felt like, that night, lonely and riddled with guilt and desperate to just make everything better. He’d told Kurt, over New Year’s, what he’d felt like around that time -- like he’d been screaming in the middle of a crowded room and no one was even looking up. It’s why he’d gotten up and played the piano at Callbacks that night, because Blaine has always expressed himself better through music. In a way, that reprise of “Teenage Dream” was the last time Blaine really used his voice until Joy was born. That song had been his apology before the truth was even out of his mouth, his wish that he could just say _I love you_ the right way in order to fix things. But his voice had broken and died with the end of the song, and Blaine knows now that after that night, Kurt had started to lose his voice, too.

It all feels like so long ago, now. They’re not seventeen anymore, young and idealistic and full of hope. They’d had so many options, back then, made so many plans -- NYADA and taking Broadway by storm and being married by thirty, kids sometime after that, the lighthouse and artist colony in Provincetown. Almost nothing has gone according to plan. They’re both on entirely different career paths, now, and while they’ve found their way back to each other, the kids have come much earlier than either of them had anticipated or even really desired. They’re much more grounded and aware of the reality of their situation, cognizant of Joy and able to use their voices again.

His phone finally chimes on the nightstand again, pulling his focus. He reaches for it with nervous fingers and opens back up to his conversation with Rachel, unsure what to expect.

_Very funny. ;)  
Unless I should take that as a no? You can bring Joy with you, if that’s what you’re worried about._

Blaine arches an eyebrow at the message, a little surprised at Rachel’s thoughtfulness. He hadn’t been sure, when they’d had dinner, if she’d really understood him as a parent. She’d been kind to Joy and had made her feel included, but knowing how being a parent has changed Blaine as a person and what his priorities are is really entirely different. But Rachel seems at least cognizant of the fact that Blaine’s entire life is scheduled around Joy, and the offer to include Joy so Blaine doesn’t have to have someone else watch her isn’t lost on him. In a lot of ways, it actually reminds him of what things had been like just after Kurt had met Joy -- courteous and inclusive and thoughtful. At face value, the situations almost seem the same -- old friends reconnecting and making adjustments for the presence of a child. But the thing is, his reconciliation with Kurt has never been just that, because he and Kurt have never been just friends. They were friends first, certainly, and that friendship had been a good foundation when they’d decided to pursue a romance, but there’s always been a different kind of chemistry between them. And the thing is, Kurt isn’t trying to fit into Blaine’s life, anymore -- they’re creating one of their own, together.

Rachel doesn’t know any of this.

Rachel knows what Blaine is doing with regards to school. She knows about Joy. She knows that he’s been in touch with Kurt, that he knows what Kurt’s doing, work-wise. But there’s also a _lot_ that Rachel doesn’t know. She doesn’t know that Joy is also Kurt’s daughter. She doesn’t know that Blaine is so beyond just in touch with Kurt. She doesn’t know that they’re back together. She doesn’t know they’re committed to raising Joy together. And she obviously doesn’t know that Blaine is pregnant, so coffee isn’t even really an option for him.

Rachel doesn’t know the extent of his current connection to Kurt, which means that even if she has ulterior motives in asking Blaine to meet up, she’s doing it without the knowledge that Blaine is close enough to Kurt for her to take advantage of. She might fish for information again, but she has to know that she might not get the answers she’s looking for and only get Blaine’s company instead.

And once again, Blaine is struck with the impression that Rachel might not be the same person she was four years ago.

Curious, Blaine considers an answer for a minute before finally tapping one out.

_Not worried about Joy. :)  
I’ve had a hectic week, but maybe next week sometime we can do lunch instead of coffee?_

Again, he doesn’t receive a response immediately, but he has a feeling that this answer might come a little more quickly than the last. The photograph on the last page of the old scrapbook catches his eye again, and with one last lingering look, Blaine closes the door on the people they used to be. His phone chimes in the time it takes for him to get up off of the bed and put the scrapbook back in the bottom corner of the bookshelf, and again he reaches for it, choosing to stay standing this time, sensing the conversation is almost over.

_Works for me. I’m in Ohio with my dads for Father’s Day weekend, but I’ll be back on Tuesday. Text you then to make more concrete plans?_

Blaine fights back another amused smile as he taps out his reply.

_It’s a date. :-p_

He’s a little startled when he closes out of the message window and see that it’s closer to nine o’clock than he’d originally thought. In the last month, he’s been slowly moving Joy’s bedtime from seven-thirty to eight, since she’s had more energy. Blaine’s not all that worried -- Kurt’s perfectly capable of handling bedtime on his own, which is why Blaine had taken the time to text Rachel in the first place. It’s just a little later than Blaine thought it would be. He didn’t think he’d spent that long texting her and flipping through the pages of the scrapbook. He’s lost his chance to say goodnight to Joy while she’s still awake, but he can still pop into her bedroom and give her a quick kiss before he joins Kurt in the living room.

But Joy isn’t in her room when Blaine stops off to see her, and it doesn’t take him long to discover that she’s in the living room with Kurt -- and she’s still awake. Blaine narrows his eyes, suddenly a little annoyed. She has a later bedtime, sure, and in the last week, it’d sometimes been a little difficult to stick exactly to the new eight o’clock bedtime with Cooper there. But this is a little ridiculous -- it’s almost _nine_ , now, and Blaine knows that Kurt knows that Joy should not be up this late. Blaine bites back a frustrated sigh at the sight of the two of them on the floor around the coffee table, surveying the mess of arts and crafts supplies they’ve got strewn about. “Hey,” he greets carefully, moving next to the couch. “What are you doing up? It’s way past your bedtime.”

Kurt blinks up at him, startled, before he glances at his phone. “Oh! I didn’t even realize -- I’m sorry.” He turns his attention back to Joy, who is coloring on a piece of construction paper with a purple crayon. “Are you all done?” Joy pokes her tongue out as she scribbles a little more before she drops the crayon and nods, handing the paper over to Kurt. “Sorry,” Kurt says again, a little sheepish as he takes the paper from Joy. “We were just trying to finish up a project.”

“I’m sure this could’ve waited until tomorrow,” Blaine argues, but his annoyance is curbed a little when he takes note of the fact that Joy is at least in her pajamas, which means that she’s pretty much ready for bed. “Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons, holding out a hand. “It’s time to go to sleep. Say goodnight to Kurt.”

Joy pushes herself to her feet, hands on the coffee table knocking aside a few beads. “Night,” she yawns, stumbling into Kurt’s arms and pressing a sleepy kiss to his cheek.

Something flickers in Kurt’s eyes, indiscernible and brief, but all he does is wrap Joy up in a tight hug and return the kiss. “Good night.”

Yawning, Joy pads her way over to Blaine and lifts up her arms in silent request. Blaine hoists her up into his arms with less ease than he normally does (or at least, what was normal before he was pregnant), noting how fatigued she looks around the eyes. He runs a hand over her hair and cradles her close to him, worried now that she might actually be overtired. If that’s the case, it might be ten times harder to get her to sleep tonight, something Blaine really wasn’t anticipating. Lips pressed against Joy’s temple, Blaine carries her into her bedroom and settles down into the rocking chair, hoping that music might work on its own tonight. Before he can even think about what song to sing to her, though, she points in the direction of the bed. “Can I have Emma?”

Blaine’s lips twist into a smile at how easily the name falls from Joy’s lips. Kurt had been the one to suggest the name, earlier today, and Joy had taken to it immediately. “Sure,” Blaine sighs, reaching for it awkwardly from his position in the rocking chair, trying not to jostle Joy too much. He finally manages to grab hold of the green giraffe by the tail and hands it to Joy, who tucks it against her chest and starts to play with the tufts of faux-hair atop the plush animal’s head.

Blaine slowly rubs her back and begins to hum idly for a minute or two while he tries to make a selection for tonight’s bedtime numbers. He wants something extra soothing tonight, just in case she’s overtired. He opts for [a Beach Boys song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lW0YGC68qP4) first, hoping the tempo is slow enough to lull her to sleep. It’s not; she just ends up rubbing her eyes sleepily at the end of it, curling even closer to him. She’s _tired_ , Blaine can tell, but he’s still unsure just how tired she actually is. She hasn’t stayed up this late in a long time -- not since she was sick back in December, actually, now that he thinks about it. Blaine figures this is either going to be really easy or really difficult from this point on. If he can’t get her to sleep with just one more song, she’s probably going to start crying out of frustration that she can’t fall asleep. It’s not like Blaine can’t handle it -- he _can_. He’s done it plenty of times before, particularly when she was a lot younger or when she’s been ill.

It’s just -- Blaine is tired, too. Maybe not in the same way that Joy is, but it feels at least somewhat similar. In the grand scheme of things, he’s not all that annoyed by Joy being kept up late. It’s a minor hiccup. But Blaine feels like he’s been dealing with a _lot_ lately -- the last eight months or so have been a change of pace from what he’d been used to with Joy before Kurt had come back into his life, but the last couple of months in particular have been fairly stressful and a little exhausting. And in the last week, Blaine feels like he’s been forced to deal with change and confrontation and the mere prospect of them in the near future. Joy being kept up late on top of all of that just makes him feel _tired_ , and it’s with a soft sigh that Blaine starts to rethink meeting Rachel for lunch next week. He’d been a little anxious about it, when he’d been texting her earlier, but he’d left that conversation feeling cautiously optimistic. Now, the thought of trying to navigate a renewed friendship with Rachel seems taxing on top of everything else he’s been dealing with -- on top of everything else he has _yet_ to deal with. And the fact that he’s stressing out about it further than he’d originally thought just stresses him out even more. And he’s _tired_ of feeling stressed out and anxious and overwhelmed when all he wants is to take his time with change and be _happy_.

Blaine takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, lips finding Joy’s temple again. Right now, this is all he has to worry about. Right now, Joy is all that matters. Everything else can be dealt with in time, and even though certain things are on a deadline because of his pregnancy, he still has control over dictating pacing. And right now, the faster he pulls another song out of his repertoire, the more likely it is that Joy will have an easier time falling asleep. He thinks about how easily she’d fallen asleep last night, when he’d dueted with Kurt on an _Annie_ number. He takes his cue from the ambiance of that number and starts to [sing](https://soundcloud.com/borderlight-entertainment/cheer-up-charlie), tapping her nose affectionately when he gets to _don’t you know your grin has always been my sunshine, let that sunshine show_. She smiles sleepily up at him in response, eyes drooping and grip on Emma slackening. Bolstered, Blaine softly serenades her with the rest of the song, relieved when her body finally relaxes against his, her breathing evening out. Carefully, Blaine pushes himself to his feet and tucks her into bed, her trio of animals strategically placed nearby. With a fond smile, Blaine brushes her hair out of her face and breathes his _I love you_ into her skin.

When Blaine reenters the living room, Kurt’s just finishing up cleaning up the last of the art supplies. He casts an apologetic but warm smile in Blaine’s direction as he settles down onto the couch. “I’m sorry I kept her up that late,” Kurt apologizes again. “I honestly just lost track of the time.”

Blaine can’t help heaving a great sigh as he sinks down onto the couch next to Kurt, adjusting his position a little so he can work a throw pillow behind his back. “One night isn’t a big deal,” he allows. “I just -- this could’ve waited until tomorrow. I like to keep her on a schedule, and you _know_ that. You know I’ve spent the last month trying to get her adjusted to a new sleep schedule, which was hard to do this last week with Cooper here.”

“None of that is really my fault,” Kurt argues, clearly choosing his words with care. “You’re the one who made the decision to change her sleep schedule after her birthday, and you’re the one who let Cooper stay here this past week.”

“I know that,” Blaine says shortly, frustrated. “I just don’t understand why this even happened because _you_ knew all of that, too. I just --” He sighs and leans his head back, eyes closed. “I just wish you’d been more observant and taken it into account.”

Kurt’s quiet for a long moment before letting out an agitated scoff. “You know, I really thought we were done with this.”

Blaine lifts his head and opens his eyes, brow knit in confusion as he turns to look at Kurt. “Done with what?”

“This whole passive-aggressively testing my parenting skills thing,” Kurt elaborates, eyes trained forward as he works his jaw.

Blaine softens a little around the edges and angles his body toward Kurt a little more. “Whoa, hang on a second. That’s not what this is about --”

“Really?” Kurt snaps, pushing himself to his feet abruptly. He starts to pace the floor around the coffee table, still refusing to look Blaine in the eye. “Because on top of everything else, that’s really what this feels like.”

Blaine sits up a little straighter, absolutely befuddled now. “Everything else?”

“Yes, everything else!” Kurt says sharply, voice a little too loud as he whirls around to finally face Blaine. He clamps his lips shut before Blaine has a chance to say anything, though, eyes quickly darting to the hallway. His voice is much quieter when he speaks again, but it still retains its sharp edge. “Like the fact that I’m relegated to staying over three nights a week, but your brother shows up unannounced and unplanned and gets to stay for an entire week, no questions asked, no second thoughts. Like the fact that I had to _push you_ to tell our parents about the baby. Like the fact that you _still_ don’t seem to trust me enough to tell Joy that I’m her father -- even though you told me that part of your reasoning in deciding to have _this_ baby was based on how good I am with her. I just feel like -- like you getting mad at me for keeping her up late on top of everything else is some sort of twisted punishment for leaving early last weekend, like I failed a test I didn’t even know about. And I’m just -- I’m so _over it_ , Blaine. I’m tired of being tested.”

Blaine sinks back against the pillow, shell-shocked and head swimming. He doesn’t understand how they got here. They’ve been _fine_ , mostly, since Kurt had come back last month. Trying to figure out what to do about the pregnancy and Cooper’s visit had upset the balance they were trying to achieve, sure, but Blaine didn’t think that Kurt was really all that upset. He knew that there was something off when Kurt left last week, and again when Kurt had discovered that Cooper knew about the pregnancy. Blaine’s had the distinct impression that Kurt’s been feeling like his voice isn’t being heard -- and he was right, if this outburst is any indication. But Kurt also hasn’t been _using_ his voice as much, at least not this explicitly. Blaine can know him and read between the lines and make his own assumptions and inferences, but at the end of the day, Kurt has to _talk to him_ for Blaine to really _know_ what Kurt’s thinking and feeling. It’s such a role reversal from how things had been back in February, back when Blaine had _actually_ been unconsciously passive-aggressively testing Kurt’s parenting skills.

Clearly, they aren’t on as equal and even ground as Blaine had thought they were.

Blaine takes a deep breath to steady himself. Getting angry about this isn’t going to solve anything. “I told you I was okay with you leaving early last weekend,” he reminds Kurt, doing his best to sound calm. “You needed space. I gave it to you.”

Blaine’s efforts at being calm don’t do much to curb Kurt’s mounting frustrations. “You wanted me to stay,” Kurt drawls, dry and irritated.

“Yeah,” Blaine says slowly, “I did. I _told_ you that. And you know,” he adds, sitting up a little again, “for someone who really hates when I bottle things up and let them fester until everything boils over, you seem to have done a pretty good job of that yourself.”

“Yeah, you know what? I have,” Kurt admits, hands flailing a little wildly at his sides before he folds his arms over his chest. “But you’re missing my point.”

“Okay, what _is_ your point?” Blaine sighs tiredly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, head propped up in his hand.

“My point is that all of that -- everything that has been frustrating me -- comes back to the same thing, which is that we haven’t told Joy that I’m her father yet,” Kurt says, and that, at least, is crystal clear to Blaine now, even in spite of how closed off Kurt’s body language is. “I feel like she’s had time to get used to me being around again,” Kurt argues. “She still likes me. She’s still attached. She obviously still wants me around.”

“I don’t disagree with that,” Blaine says, rubbing at his temple with his fingers as he tries to figure out where this is going.

“Okay, but the time I spent here with both of you before I knew the truth should still count for _something_ , Blaine. And before you even go there,” Kurt adds, lowering his voice, “don’t sit there and accuse me of not putting Joy first, okay? I _know_ we have to put her first. I know that we’ve been waiting to tell her because she needs to be in a good enough place to deal with it when we tell her the truth. The point I’ve been trying to make is that she might already _be there_ , Blaine.”

Blaine exhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. His conversation with his father comes flooding back to him -- they should tell Joy sooner, rather than later, because she’s going to need time to adjust to the idea and reality before they tell her about the baby. Blaine _knows_ this, he does, but he’s beyond frustrated with being constantly pushed to deal with change at a much quicker pace than he wants or is ready for. He keeps telling himself that he still has control, even under extenuating circumstances, that he can still dictate pacing and timing at least a little bit. Blaine feels very much like he’s being backed into a corner, now, which is something Kurt had explicitly said he didn’t want to make Blaine feel like last night. It’s not like Blaine isn’t open to talking about it. He’s not even opposed to telling Joy soon. He just kind of wants a couple of days to _not_ be stressed out or anxious about impending change.

Blaine takes a second to breathe before he rests his head in his hand again and looks back up at Kurt, trying to figure out how to explain all of that to Kurt without agitating him further. But Kurt speaks again before Blaine even has more than a few seconds to try and articulate his thoughts. “But you know what? I… have feelings, too, Blaine,” Kurt says, the edge in his voice starting to fade. “And they matter. _I_ matter.” Blaine’s heart sinks a little at that, because that’s not what he’s meant at _all_ anytime he’s impressed upon Kurt the importance of putting Joy first. Of course Kurt and his feelings matter -- especially to Blaine. Blaine was standing up for Kurt’s right to have his feelings taken into consideration all the way back at Christmas, when he’d discussed this at length with his dad. Blaine’s feelings on the subject haven’t changed all, but he’s realizing that the impression he’s gotten in the last week -- that Kurt feels like his voice isn’t being heard -- is probably startlingly more accurate than he thought. This really shouldn’t be all that surprising considering that this has happened before -- and in the last month, no less. Kurt had felt uncomfortable using his voice last month, when they’d first discovered that Blaine was pregnant, and Blaine had to reassure Kurt that he still valued Kurt’s opinion.

And it occurs to Blaine, then, that this whole time, Kurt has been the one pushing Blaine to be a little more selfish, to take his own thoughts and feelings into consideration more often. Kurt has been the one reminding Blaine that he matters, too, and even though the support has come over three years late, Blaine has been not only taking the advice but following it, too. Kurt has been good about being vocal and clear when he needs space and time to himself, but so _much_ of what Kurt has done over the last several months has been much more selfless. Kurt has almost never been shy about saying what he wants or needs or deserves, but he’s clearly been holding a lot of it back. “Of _course_ you matter, Kurt.”

Kurt’s shoulders fall, like he’s softening a little, but Blaine’s reassurance seems to just sting _more_. There’s betrayal in Kurt’s eyes -- _hurt_. “I believe you,” Kurt says thinly, still managing to sound sincere. “But do you know what that leaves me with? All I can deduce from you prolonging telling her the truth is that you’re _still_ afraid of me changing my mind.”

“But I’m _not_ ,” Blaine promises, thrown for a loop. “I told my dad as much last night.”

Kurt arches his eyebrows, arms unfurling. “Doesn’t that give you a clue as to where I’m coming from right now?” he asks, the edge in his voice back but less sharp than before. “ _No one_ is taking me seriously. No one seems to think that I’ve changed or grown up in the last three or four years. And if you don’t trust me enough to tell Joy that I’m her other father, then how on _Earth_ are you going to trust me enough to raise this baby together?”

Blaine lifts his head from his hand, the implication plucking painfully at his heartstrings. “ _Kurt_ \--”

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Blaine,” Kurt rants, voice pitching a little high as he continues his tirade. He runs a hand through his hair in clear agitation before resuming pacing, hands anchored firmly on his hips. “I don’t -- I don’t know how to _prove_ to you that this is what I want, that I’m not going to change my mind. I don’t know how to make you believe that _all_ I want to do -- all I’ve _ever_ wanted to do -- is spend my _life_ loving you.” Blaine feels his heart skip a beat, and he straightens up, eyes a little wider and breath caught in his chest. “I _love_ her,” Kurt continues, still pacing, “and I’m going to love this baby and I’m going to _be here_ but you’re not giving me the opportunity to -- _why are you looking at me like that_?” Kurt asks, finally coming to a halt on the opposite side of the coffee table and folding his arms over his chest again.

All of the breath leaves Blaine at once. He tries to compose himself, tries to focus enough to say something. This entire conversation has felt confusing and chaotic, the jumps between each issue almost too jarring for Blaine to keep up with. He doesn’t want to contribute to that, but he can’t _help it_. He opens his mouth to speak but it’s too dry, so he moistens his lips and swallows and tries again. “You, um, you love me?”

All of the fight seems to leave Kurt’s body at once, disbelief evident in his eyes. “Do you really think,” Kurt begins, voice low and steady and absolutely serious, “that I would be here, that I would make the same promises over and over again, that I’d be making such a big deal out of all of this if I _didn’t_?”

Blaine breaks eye contact and tries to catch his breath. It’s been close to four years since Kurt has said it to him. Blaine barely remembers the last time, tacked on as a rushed afterthought over the phone. The time before that, though -- the last time Kurt said it to him in person -- is a clear, vivid memory in Blaine’s head. He remembers being tangled in sheets the night before Kurt had left Ohio, remembers the soft press of Kurt’s lips against his skin, remembers the whispered parting promises. Kurt’s promises hadn’t been enough, then, but Blaine has no doubts, now. He trusts Kurt. He _believes_.

Kurt is using his voice, and Blaine hears him.

It’s not -- he knows that there were lingering feelings between them after they reconnected last fall, before they got back together over Valentine’s Day. And logically, Blaine knows that those lingering feelings carried over from the time they spent apart, from when they were together before. But it’s -- it’s different for him. Even though he’d cheated on Kurt, he’d never stopped _loving_ him. His feelings hadn’t gone away even after they’d broken up, but Blaine has never tried to convince himself or anyone else that they had. He’s admitted to still being in love with Kurt several times, both to himself and to others (his dad, mostly). And he’s not naive enough to think that Kurt doesn’t have _any_ feelings for him. It’s just -- Blaine spent so long choosing to ignore his lingering love for Kurt because he’d felt like it was too selfish to invest in.

To hope.

This isn’t hope. This is promise. This is _love_.

Kurt still loves him.

One last breath to try and collect himself, and Blaine lifts his gaze to find Kurt still studying him curiously. “You, um, you haven’t said... _that_ in a long time,” he says quietly. “Not since before --”

“I know,” Kurt acknowledges, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his hair. “Believe me, it’s not like I planned on saying it for the first time this time around like this.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow, fighting back an amused smile. “You had a plan?” he asks, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Kurt just gives him a _look_. “No, I didn’t have a _plan_ ,” he says dryly. “I just didn’t particularly picture blurting it out in the middle of an argument like this.” Blaine deflates a little and drops his gaze back to his lap, because they _are_ arguing, over something really important, and they’re nowhere near resolving things. Before Blaine can even begin to think about where to start to try and fix this, Kurt sinks down on the couch next to him and exhales heavily before reaching for Blaine’s hand. “I’m sorry,” Kurt says, sounding sincere but tired. “I’m sorry I snapped like that and lost my temper a little bit. I’m not -- I’m not _angry_ , Blaine. It’s not like you did anything wrong --”

“I know,” Blaine interjects, looking up at him. That, at least is something they can agree on. He knows what the issue at hand is, knows how they both feel about it. Blaine knows that he hasn’t _done_ anything, and the fact that he didn’t immediately assume he had and try to make amends makes him feel much older than the seventeen he used to be. “You’re not angry -- you’re frustrated,” he says, echoing what he’s heard from Kurt tonight. “And it’s not because I’ve done something. It’s because I haven’t done _anything_.”

“Just… in terms of telling Joy,” Kurt tacks on, clarifying.

“Okay, then -- you get that I’ve been doing a _lot_ in terms of everything else, don’t you?” Blaine asks, doing his best to sound patient and as uncondescending as possible. “You and I have been back together for four months. In the last two months alone, I’ve had to deal with you confronting me about Joy being your daughter, you deciding to _be_ a father to her, finishing up my second-to-last semester at school, two birthdays, finding out that I’m pregnant, deciding whether or not to keep this baby, and some really weird family dynamics. In the last _week_ , I’ve had an ultrasound, a surprise visit from my brother, and told my family I’m pregnant.”

“I’m aware of how much has been going on,” Kurt reminds him, restraint evident in his tone. “I’ve been here, for the most part.”

“Okay, then some part of you has to understand how _overwhelming_ all of this is,” Blaine sighs, pulling his hand out from Kurt’s grasp. “And I just -- I feel like recently, I’ve been a little forced into being ready for some of the changes. I mean, it’s been one thing after another lately, Kurt. And I’m not -- I’m not _you_ ,” he says, cringing even as the words come out of his mouth because he _knows_ it sounds bad. “I can’t do a lot of change all at once. I feel better if I can pace it out a little. All of the changes we have to deal with are already on a deadline because of this pregnancy. I’m not saying that we have to put it off for much longer. I just… want a couple of days to regroup before we try tackling this.”

Kurt doesn’t reach for Blaine’s hand again, but he does turn and angle his body toward Blaine’s, leaning against the back of the couch. His forehead wrinkles a little as he studies Blaine again, clearly taking time to think and choose his words carefully. “I’m… not _you_ , either,” Kurt counters, sounding hesitant. “The longer we drag this out and put it off, the more frustrated and anxious I get. I feel like -- like I don’t fully have a place here, like I don’t totally belong yet.”

Blaine softens a little and reaches out for Kurt’s hand. “ _Kurt_ \--”

Kurt curls his fingers inward, away from Blaine’s outstretched hand. He looks uncomfortable but still determined. “I feel like you only trust me so far,” Kurt says, pressing on. “You only let me stay over a certain number of nights every week. We haven’t told Joy that I’m her father yet. And last weekend, after Cooper showed up, you kept deferring to him to help with her even though I was still here.”

“That’s just habit,” Blaine defends. “I trust Cooper with Joy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t trust you, too, Kurt.”

Kurt exhales sharply and rubs his temple with his fingers. “Okay, even if you trust me more than I think you do, everything you said before about why you want to wait to tell her, all of the things about feeling overwhelmed and wanting to pace things out -- that’s about _you_ , not her. I get that this is really hard, Blaine, but there’s no such thing as perfect timing, remember?”

Blaine feels his gut twist with guilt. Everything about this has grown clouded and murky, neither of them seeing it clearly. “Most of the arguments you made were about you,” Blaine points out, hoping to clear the air and make them take a step back for a minute.

“Yeah, you know what? They were,” Kurt admits with a huff. “But I maintain that my feelings matter, Blaine. Not that yours don’t -- of course they do,” he groans in frustration, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He takes a deep breath before lifting his head to look at Blaine again, palms running flat against the tops of his thighs. “I would never push for this if I didn’t think Joy was ready,” Kurt says evenly. “ _Please_ tell me you believe that.”

“Of course I do,” Blaine enthuses. “We’re just -- we’re both being a little selfish, here -- not that that’s entirely a bad thing. I just wanted to make sure -- Joy has to come first,” he says for what feels like the thousandth time. “And I know you know that. I --” Blaine sighs heavily and leans his head back to rest against the top of the couch, eyes cast upon the ceiling. He feels _exhausted_ and all they’ve done is _talk_ about telling Joy the truth about Kurt. He realizes that it’s selfish to ask for time to regroup, but it feels more necessary now than it did before. “Maybe we should just table this discussion for the night,” he says quietly, rubbing a comforting hand over the slight swell of his stomach. “We’re just talking in circles. Even if we managed to get on the same page tonight, it’s not like we’re going to wake her up to tell her. Let’s just… sleep on it,” he suggests, lifting his head up off of the couch to look at Kurt again. “This conversation might be more productive when we’re less tired and agitated.”

Kurt’s eyes are tinged with something that looks like hurt again, but his jaw is a little more stiff than before, his fingers flexing in an agitated fashion atop his legs. “I think we’re more on the same page than you think we are,” Kurt says, voice quiet and tinged with resignation. “We both agree that we need to tell her, and we need to tell her soon. We _want_ to tell her. But… from the sound of things, our point of contention is the when, and I really don’t think that’s going to change until we actually tell her, whenever that is.” Blaine opens his mouth to speak -- to protest or pacify, he’s not actually sure -- and reaches his hand out in Kurt’s direction, but Kurt pushes himself to his feet and doesn’t look Blaine in the eye. “You’re right, let’s just… go get ready for bed,” Kurt says, offering out a hand to help Blaine up off of the couch.

Blaine sighs and takes a minute to consider Kurt’s outstretched hand. He doesn’t need Kurt’s help getting up, but that’s not what’s bothering him. He doesn’t want to go to bed feeling like this, while things are still fragile and unresolved between them. He knows that they probably wouldn’t be able to resolve this tonight, but he doesn’t like the idea of going to bed when they’re upset with one another -- he never has. But he realizes that he should probably take his own advice and just let them both cool off, sleep on it, and regroup before trying again. “Tabling the discussion doesn’t mean it’s closed, okay? It just means we’re hitting pause.”

Kurt inhales sharply before meeting Blaine’s eyes again. “Okay,” he agrees, although it sounds like it _pains him_ to say it. “Pause.”

With a resigned sigh, Blaine slips his hand into Kurt’s and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

Their nighttime routine is now awkward and stilted, too much space between them at the bathroom counter as they brush their teeth in silence. They avoid meeting each others’ eyes in the reflection of the mirror as they moisturize, and all at once Blaine feels what Kurt had been talking about earlier -- everything feels out of place. Falling into a nighttime routine had made them both feel comfortable, before, familiar ground a foundation they could build off of. It’s what had reassured Blaine that Kurt would come back, back in April when Kurt had taken time to think things over. Now, everything feels fractured, Kurt’s rough edges a buffer between them. Blaine wants so _badly_ to speak up, to use his voice to smooth things over, but his throat feels raw and for tonight, he’s run out of words.

And still, the silence lingers between them as Kurt heads into the bedroom to change into pajamas while Blaine makes sure the front door is locked and the lights are off. It’s not until Blaine joins him in the bedroom and starts to turn the covers down that Kurt speaks. “I can’t do this.”

Blaine turns around to find Kurt lingering in the doorway, eyeing the bed with apprehension. “Kurt, it’s okay. I wasn’t assuming we were having sex tonight or anything --”

“No, not that,” Kurt dismisses. “I just… don’t want to go to bed feeling like this.”

Blaine softens into a gentle smile. Maybe they _are_ more on the same page than he thought. “We can reopen the discussion, if you want,” he offers, trying his best to tamp down his exhaustion in favor of at least putting them back on track. “Unpause?”

Kurt shakes his head and drops his gaze to the floor, clearly still acutely uncomfortable. “No, I think, um -- I think I’ll just sleep on the couch instead.”

Blaine’s smile falters, his brow knit in confusion. “You haven’t slept on the couch in months,” Blaine points out. “You really don’t need to --”

“No, I do need to,” Kurt argues, gaze level with Blaine’s again. “I need space, but I don’t want to have to go to my apartment to get it because that would just go against the point I’m trying to make.”

Blaine lets out a weary sigh and does his best not to roll his eyes. Kurt still clearly doesn’t believe that Blaine believes in Kurt’s promises now, that he trusts Kurt. But Blaine is _tired_ of arguing tonight. He just wants to curl up in bed and hold Kurt’s hand and sleep on everything until at least tomorrow. “I respect the fact that you need your space, Kurt,” he says, trying to sound patient even though his patience is wearing thin. “But I’m really tired of you putting space between _us_. We’re never going to resolve anything if you keep doing this. So can you just --” He pauses and takes a step in Kurt’s direction, holding out a hand. “Please, come to bed.”

Kurt visibly recoils, every muscle tense as he drops his gaze to Blaine’s hand. “Blaine,” he says, voice a little shaky and uneven, “the last time we shared a bed and I had… less than positive feelings about you is not a memory I want to relive.” And _ouch_ , the sting of the memory of Blaine’s first visit to New York is sharp and stinging, making Blaine’s heart sink. “And I know that this is different, that we’re not breaking up or anything like that,” Kurt adds, dulling the ache Blaine knows they’re both feeling. “You were right. Sleeping on this will probably help me cool off a little, but if I sleep next to you tonight, it’s just going to amplify everything I’m already feeling.”

And that, at least, Blaine can understand to a certain degree. In the last week alone, he can recall several instances that have made him feel younger and reminded him of negative experiences from his past. He’d avoided being put in a position to make those feelings more acute -- or worse, letting them resurface entirely. They’ve moved on from that, from who they were back then and all of the mistakes they made. Earlier tonight, Blaine had distanced himself from all of that after he’d flipped through the scrapbook and texted Rachel. He knows what it’s like to want to move forward, to _grow_ , but he’s reminded yet again that he and Kurt grow in different ways. Where Blaine needs time, Kurt needs space, and Blaine should know by now that giving Kurt space doesn’t mean they’ll grow apart. Pushing aside his obstinacy, Blaine lets out a resigned sigh and nods his assent. “Okay,” he agrees softly. “I, um -- here,” he offers, grabbing one of the extra pillows off the bed and handing it to Kurt. “There are, um, extra blankets on the shelf above the washer and dryer, if you want them.”

“Thanks,” Kurt murmurs. His hands toy with the edge of the pillow for a minute before he sets it down and closes the distance between them. He cups Blaine’s face in his hands and just… looks at him for another moment, fatigue obvious in the lines and circles around and under his eyes. Blaine’s heart races when Kurt leans in for a warm kiss, and more than ever, Blaine just wants him to _stay_. Kurt tucks his chin over Blaine’s shoulder after they break apart, arms wrapping Blaine up in a hug. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, a stark contrast compared to how tense things have been between them for the last hour. But it doesn’t last -- Kurt inhales sharply and pulls away after barely half a moment, refusing to meet Blaine’s eyes. “Good night, Blaine,” he says hurriedly, turning to reach for the pillow before leaving the room.

Kurt’s wet eyes don’t escape Blaine’s notice.

For all that Kurt has been better about using his voice, Blaine still gets the distinct feeling that there’s something Kurt isn’t telling him.

Exhausted and lost, Blaine resists the urge to follow Kurt out into the living room. He turns back around, the bed suddenly looking much bigger than it did a few minutes ago. It’s not like he hasn’t slept alone in this bed recently; he still does, four nights a week. It’s just… different than what his expectations have come to be on weekends when Kurt stays over, another departure from their previously established routine. And again, Blaine remembers the last time he’d crawled into this bed missing Kurt and feeling alone, remembers the quiet calm before the storm. This isn’t like that, and Blaine _knows_ that. Kurt is _here_ , and Blaine isn’t worried about Kurt changing his mind or leaving. Despite the upset tonight, Blaine still believes that this -- _they_ are Kurt’s home. Everything will fit together soon enough. For now, Blaine crawls into bed and turns off the lamp on his nightstand, body refusing to stray beyond the center line.

There is a place for Kurt, here.

* * * * *

On Sunday morning, Blaine wakes up to the touch of fingertips.

Joy’s face comes into blurred focus as he blearily blinks awake, brain taking a few extra seconds to realize that she’s tapping his hand with her own. It’s unusual to be woken up like this, for Joy to come into his room to wake him. Startled and instinctively concerned, Blaine lifts his head off of his pillow, free hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Hey, sweetie,” he groans sleepily. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

Vision a little clearer, Blaine relaxes a little once he sees Joy nod and reach out for him, bouncing on the balls of her feet in silent request to be lifted up onto the bed with him. Blaine glances over at the clock on his nightstand, surprised to find that it’s eight a.m.. Joy doesn’t normally sleep in this late, even with the recently adjusted sleep schedule or on weekends. He wonders if she actually slept in or if she’s been awake for a little while. With a slight groan, he forces himself to sit up all the way and leans over to gently hoist her onto the bed with him. It’s not until she’s settled in next to him that he notices the long, thin box covered in wrapping paper in her other hand. “What’s this?” he laughs.

“For you!” she announces brightly, holding it out in his direction. “For Daddy Day.”

Blaine exhales softly in surprise as he takes the box from her. It’s not like he’d forgotten about Father’s Day, but he’s been dealing with it in strange abstracts for so long that he hadn’t actually given a lot of thought to being celebrated today. He’s used to orchestrating something nice for his own father. He’d sent a card with Cooper on Friday; he even has plans to call his father, later today. And it’s not like Blaine hasn’t gotten anything out of Father’s Day the last few years. His parents and Cooper had usually done _something_ to make him feel included, but that usually involved a card they’d picked out with crayon scribblings on the inside courtesy of Joy. She’d barely been cognizant of what the holiday had meant, last year, despite how observant she normally is. The fact that she’s able to understand what it means this year isn’t all that surprising, but the fact that she’s aware of it makes Blaine a little curious. Obviously, someone had to have told her it was coming up soon, and despite her penchant for gift giving, he’s fairly sure whoever told her probably orchestrated whatever’s in this box.

With a fond smile, Blaine undoes the ribbon wrapped around the box and takes a minute to use it to tie a bow in Joy’s hair. She smiles up at him before glancing down at the dangling ends, fingers playing with the silky material. He makes quick but careful work of the wrapping paper before prying the lid off of the box. He’s met with a small square of construction paper first, the outline of a heart filled in with purple crayon. “Thank you,” he says warmly, lifting the makeshift card out of the box. “I’ll put this on the refrigerator in the kitchen when I get up, okay?” Setting the paper aside, he turns his attention back to the box, smile faltering a little when he sees the beaded keychain inside.

And all at once, Blaine remembers the scene he’d walked in on late last night -- the purple crayon, the scattering of beads.

Kurt.

Touched, Blaine runs his fingers over the arrangements of beads on the lanyard. He knows that Joy must’ve picked out all of the various colors and shapes and put them in the order she wanted, but the three big beads spaced out along the center -- the letters that spell out her name -- were definitely Kurt’s idea. “Kurt says that’s my name,” Joy informs him, fingers dotting across the lettered beads.

“That _is_ your name,” Blaine affirms with a smile, tears stinging at his eyes. Movement near the doorway catches his eye, and he looks up just in time to see Kurt lean against the dresser near the door. And just like that, all of the frustration and exhaustion and fight from the night before is just _gone_ , because there is such _warmth_ in Kurt’s smile that Blaine doesn’t know how he could have ever thought Kurt wasn’t putting Joy -- wasn’t putting _them_ first. And with a skipped heartbeat, Blaine remembers the forgotten gem from last night’s confused and conflicted conversation.

Kurt still loves him.

“I thought you might like it for your keys,” Kurt explains quietly. “That way you can have a piece of her with you wherever you are.”

“Do you like it?” Joy asks, fingers still toying with the ends of the ribbon in her hair.

Blaine turns his attention back to Joy with ease, smile crinkling his eyes. “I do like it,” he promises. “I love it. I’ll put it on my keys and take it with me everywhere.” Joy’s face relaxes into a familiar smile, one Blaine’s seen her wear several times before. She almost always looks for approval -- particularly when she’s waiting on reactions to the gifts she gives -- but there’s something different when she directs the smile at him, something he’s not sure he could really pinpoint before. It’d be easy to think that she looks at him differently because he’s her father, but there’s an underpinning of yearning in her smile -- hope. And it occurs to Blaine, then, that Joy’s observant nature has been fine-tuned to him for a very long time.

For all that she’s only three, Blaine thinks Joy probably just wants him to be happy.

With a sharp inhale, Blaine sets the gift and all of its wrappings on the nightstand so he can pull Joy into his arms. “Thank you,” he murmurs, cradling the back of her head with his hand and dropping a kiss to her temple. Joy lets go of the ribbon ends and curls her fingers into the material of Blaine’s sleep shirt in silent answer, her face tucked against his neck. Beyond her, Blaine’s eyes find Kurt looking away from them and taking a deep breath to steady himself.

And all at once, the pieces click into place.

Today is Father’s Day.

Everything about last night suddenly makes that much more sense, now -- keeping Joy up late, pushing to tell her the truth, the debate over whether or not she’s ready to hear it, Kurt standing up for himself. All of that makes ten times more sense now that Blaine has Joy in his arms as she celebrates, because that’s the thing -- she’s celebrating him, not them. She knows Kurt and she might even love him, but she doesn’t know who Kurt really is, what he’s supposed to be to her. She hasn’t had the chance to know him as her father yet, and with striking clarity, Blaine realizes that it means that Kurt hasn’t had the chance to actively _be_ her father yet. Kurt’s known for a while, now, and he’s embraced it as much as Blaine has let him so far. They’ve both been embracing who they are, now, and the changes they’re going through, however begrudgingly at times. Blaine has taken the time to grow into who he is and who he wants to be, but where he’s made progress, he’s stunted Kurt’s growth. Kurt has been _trying_ to use his voice, but there’s only so much he can say before being censored and silenced. Blaine hasn’t been letting Kurt be who he wants to be, and that’s not something Blaine has ever wanted.

Blaine _loves him_ , but more than that, he _trusts_ Kurt. Trust between them has been so fragile for so long. Blaine remembers how _good_ it had felt to have Kurt trust Blaine with his body again, the ultimate indication of Kurt’s forgiveness. Blaine realizes, now, that it took action for him to believe in Kurt’s trust in him, and while Blaine has certainly trusted Kurt with a lot over the last eight months -- Joy in particular -- his trust in Kurt’s promises has been nothing but words so far. Blaine thinks he understands why it’s so important to Kurt to tell Joy the truth; if Blaine really believes in Kurt’s promises, if he really trusts Kurt, it brings them both full circle.

Kurt has made his choice. Blaine needs to make his, now. And if Blaine really trusts him, then at this point, there isn’t really any reason to wait to tell Joy the truth.

She deserves to know.

Blaine takes his own deep breath to steady himself before pulling away a little and making sure Joy meets his gaze. “Um, sweetheart, you know how families are made up of all kinds of people?” he begins, brushing some of her hair out of her face. “Like mommies and daddies and uncles and --”

“Grandmas and grandpas?” she supplies helpfully.

Blaine nods approvingly, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. “But, um, most of the time it’s just you and me, right?” Joy nods in agreed understanding, but the yearning that’s normally in her smile sparks in her eyes, now, and Blaine feels the same warmth in his chest that he did when he first held her just over three years ago -- hope.

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupts, quiet but firm. Blaine glances up at him briefly, but it only takes a few seconds to understand what Kurt isn’t saying. There’s confusion in the wrinkle of his brow, concern along the lines of his face, doubt in the pursing of his lips. But most notably, behind all of that, is the same spark that keeps Blaine’s heart beating -- hope.

The corner of Blaine’s mouth twitches into a smile. “You’re sure,” he says, and it is absolutely not a question. All at once, Kurt relaxes, his nod almost imperceptible, but the nerves Blaine has been trying to tamper down are evident on Kurt’s face now. Without another word, Kurt makes his way around the bed and settles down next to them, sitting up straight before thinking better of it and relaxing his shoulders. With the weight and warmth of Kurt next to them, Blaine turns his attention back to Joy and reaches for her small hand, hoping he can anchor her as much as she anchors him. “Well, actually, you, uh, you have… two daddies, honey.”

Joy’s nose scrunches up a little, confusion clouding and covering the spark in her eyes. “Where’s my other daddy?”

“He’s here,” Blaine says gently, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “Kurt is your other daddy, Joy.” Turning her confused gaze onto Kurt, Joy studies him for a moment, Kurt’s encouraging smile only making the silence more palpable. Blaine bites his lip, anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin. He knows that this is a big thing to try and deal with for anyone, but he can’t imagine what this is going to be like for a three-year-old. Longing to make her feel a little more at ease, Blaine ducks his head to try and get her to look at him again. “You can call him Papa if you want, but if you want to keep calling him Kurt, you can. He’s going to be here to take care of you, just like I do,” he explains, hoping that helps. That gets Joy to look at him again, but the expression on her face hasn’t changed at all. “Is that okay?” Blaine asks, taking up her other hand.

Again, Joy turns her gaze onto Kurt and studies him again for a long moment before speaking. “I guess so,” she says, voice quiet and a little unsure. Something in Blaine’s chest twists a little with worry, but he takes a second to breathe and remember that he can’t expect her to understand and adjust to the change right away. Joy needs time, too, and the fact that she’s at least tentatively receptive to the news is honestly probably the best they could have hoped for at this point. Joy looks away from Kurt much more quickly this time, flexing her fingers against Blaine’s hand and tracing the lines on his palms. She’s quiet for another moment before she ventures, “Can I color?”

Blaine exhales in relief, relaxing a little. “Sure,” he agrees amicably.

“The crayons and papers are still on the table in the living room,” Kurt tells her, smile a little dimmer but still in place.

“Are there more beads?” she asks, looking over at him.

“There are _lots_ of beads,” Kurt says. He hesitates for a second before adding, “Do you want help making something else with them?”

Joy nods but doesn’t quite meet Kurt’s eyes anymore. “Yes, please.”

“Why don’t you go color first?” Blaine suggests. “And then we’ll be out in a minute to help you,” Blaine promises, leaning in to press another kiss to Joy’s forehead. “I love you.”

A smile brightens Joy’s face as she looks up at him, confusion starting to dissipate. “Love you,” she mumbles back, pushing herself to her knees and leaning in close, lips puckered in exaggerated expectation. Blaine obliges her with ease, her smile infectious, and it’s with a slight groan that he helps her down off of the bed.

He waits until Joy’s padded out of the room before he turns to face Kurt again, taking another breath to gather himself before either of them speaks. But Kurt catches him off guard by moving in close, forehead resting against Blaine’s, hand cradling Blaine’s jaw. “Please tell me you didn’t do that just because it’s Father’s Day,” Kurt pleads.

Blaine lets out a breathless laugh, unable to fight back a smile as he pulls away and takes Kurt’s hand in his. “That was part of it,” he admits. “Joy deserves to know how much you care about her. You deserve to be important to her, too.”

Kurt closes his eyes, exhaling sharply. “I wasn’t trying to make it about me.”

“I know,” Blaine reassures him, “but you were right to stand up for yourself last night.” Kurt slowly blinks his eyes open, reservation still tinging his irises. “You matter, Kurt, and I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

Kurt’s shoulders sag a little. “But I didn’t want you to do it just because it would make me feel better,” Kurt argues. “I wanted you to want to do it for her.”

“And I did,” Blaine promises. “Joy is always going to come first, Kurt, but we’re a _family_ now. Each of us is important. We all need to be taken care of. We all need to be heard. And I _heard you_ , Kurt. I know that you didn’t believe that I trust you.”

“So you did this to prove it to me,” Kurt guesses.

Blaine huffs out a slight laugh and settles against the pillows again, running his thumb along the back of Kurt’s hand. “You know, before we broke up, I used to think that sex was the most intimate thing two people could share. And you… encouraged that belief. It took me a long time to realize that while it’s definitely intimate, it’s not the most intimate experience.”

Kurt narrows his eyes, but his lips twist into a smile all the same. “Oh really?”

“Really,” Blaine says. “It took us breaking up, me having Joy, and us reconnecting over the last eight months for me to realize that the most intimate thing two people can do is trust one another. And, you know, to an extent, trust _does_ need to be earned, Kurt,” he says as gently as possible. “But only to a certain extent.”

Kurt’s smile flickers and fades, his eyes downcast. “And what happens when all the tests have been passed?” he prompts.

“Then trust becomes a choice,” Blaine shares, because he _finally_ understands that -- what it means and how important it is. And he knows that they have both made the choice to trust each other again, but it can’t hurt to say it out loud again, to back up the proof he’s offered. “And I _choose_ to trust you, Kurt.”

Slowly, Kurt lifts his head to look Blaine in the eye again, and he barely waits the space of a heartbeat before he’s leaning back in and capturing Blaine’s lips in a kiss. And with the breath that fills Blaine’s lungs, he thinks he finally feels what he’s said he’s felt all along, what he’s been chasing for a very long time -- happiness. Kurt doesn’t drop his hand from Blaine’s face when he breaks the kiss, but he does put enough space between them to look Blaine in the eyes properly. “I meant what I said last night,” Kurt says, voice thick but even. “I _do_ love you.”

Blaine smiles. “I know,” he says. “And I know you love her, Kurt.”

Kurt drops his hand from Blaine’s face, smile dimming a little. “I hope she knows that, too.”

“If she doesn’t, she will,” Blaine assures him. “Just give her time, Kurt.”

Kurt nods in understanding, but Blaine knows that even though Kurt will give Joy all the time in the world to get used to him being her father, dealing with change slowly is not Kurt’s strong suit. “Um, actually, speaking of time,” Kurt ventures, clearing his throat a little, “I had something I wanted to ask you. Last night, you said that everything was on a deadline because of the pregnancy.”

“Oh god,” Blaine groans. “Please don’t tell me you want to deal with another big change today.”

“No, that’s not -- relax,” Kurt says, half-laughing. “I just thought -- now that Joy knows… about _me_ , I thought that maybe we should at least have a preliminary conversation about when we’re going to tell her about the baby. You know, since we’re kind of in the whole parenting thing together now?”

“She needs time to adjust to this first,” Blaine says firmly, because this, at least is all about Joy, now. She needs both space and time, and Blaine wants to make sure she’s absolutely comfortable before he even thinks about piling on anything else. “It’s one thing to tell her that you’re her father, Kurt. I don’t think she really has a handle on what that means or what the reality of it is going to be like. Telling her about the baby is something else entirely. I just -- I’d want something tangible to offer her to help her understand, you know?”

“What, like the sonogram?” Kurt guesses.

“That’s probably a good place to start,” Blaine sighs, unconsciously dropping his free hand down to the slight swell of his stomach. “But I feel like she’d understand it better if we waited until the baby starts moving. That way she can _feel it_ , too, you know?”

“How long do you think that will be?” Kurt asks.

“Another month?” Blaine figures. “Maybe two?”

Kurt studies him for a moment, eyes lingering on where Blaine’s hand is resting atop his abdomen. “You’ll be showing a lot more soon,” Kurt points out. “You know better than anyone how observant Joy can be. What do you want to do if she starts asking questions before then?”

“If she asks, we can tell her,” Blaine allows. “But -- _together_ , okay? If one of us isn’t with her when she asks, we wait until we’re all together again. And before you even ask, I really am not up for planning out exactly how we’re going to explain this to her today, Kurt. Can we just try to _relax_ for the rest of the day?”

Kurt nods and softens into a smile. “You know,” he muses, tone a little flirtatious, “I don’t know if it’s all this team parenting, but I’m getting a little turned on right now.”

Blaine tries to bite back an amused smile -- and fails. “I’ll tell you what,” he suggests. “If you make some of your famous crepes for breakfast, you and I can have a little celebration of our own during naptime.”

Kurt makes a pleased noise and leans in for another kiss, humming against Blaine’s lips. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” They both grin into another kiss before Kurt finally pulls away, the drag of his fingertips across Blaine’s hand featherlight. Blaine shivers in anticipation, eyes following Kurt’s frame as he walks out of the bedroom.

Trust may be the most intimate thing they share, but sometimes the touch of fingertips is still as sexy as it gets.

Unable to stop grinning, Blaine finally pushes the covers off of himself and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching comfortably into his skin and feeling warm all the way down to his toes. The keychain catches Blaine’s eye briefly before his gaze drifts over to the picture frame next to it, the photograph of him and Joy old and familiar. On the corner of the frame is the post-it he’d stuck there last week, a reminder to start a new scrapbook for Joy this week. With a brief glance over his shoulder, Blaine remembers flipping through the old, dusty scrapbook last night, closing the door on the people they used to be.

This is a new chapter for him and Kurt, too.

They’re a family, now.

Inspired, Blaine digs around in the top drawer of his nightstand for a pen before removing the post-it from the frame and adding a note to it.

_Scrapbooks:_  
_Joy -- age 3_  
_Kurt -- the second time around_

And for the first time in a long time, change doesn’t feel the same.

* * * * *


	16. Chapter 16

The universe works in twisted ways.

Kurt has known this for a very long time. He’s experienced it firsthand. His mother dying had afforded him the opportunity to grow a little closer to his father. Coming out meant that while he could be honest about who he was and comfortable in his skin, the bullying got worse for a while. Giving up on the idea of a relationship with Finn meant that Kurt could gain him as a brother. He lost Blaine shortly after moving to New York, and he gained a promotion after his friendship with Rachel fell to pieces. The joy of learning that his father was in remission was quickly dampened by the news of Finn’s death.

The good has always been mingled with bad, and Kurt recognizes that he’s probably been conditioned to expect them to come hand in hand. He thinks that’s probably _why_ he prefers change all at once. It’s what he’s used to, and the conjunctive nature of the notable events in his life means that there is always joy to balance out the pain and carry him through it.

He has Joy, now, and yet he continues to feel like he’s standing still.

Logically, Kurt knows that Joy knowing the truth is really just the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. He knows that she needs time to adjust to the news and what it means in reality. And he’s not -- he would never push her to accept it and get used to it if she wasn’t ready or needed more time. He knows that sometimes actions are better proof that words, particularly for a three-year-old. And things _are_ different now that she knows, if Blaine’s suggestion that Kurt start staying over four nights a week instead of three to help establish a more prominent and active presence is anything to go by. But things are also not the same; they’re… familiar in ways Kurt wishes they weren’t. He remembers what it had been like back after he’d first met Joy. He remembers her shy, reserved nature, her long stretches of silent observance. She’d taken a little while to warm up to him, and in a weird way, Kurt feels like he’s starting all over. Joy is _different_ around him now, quiet and tentative and a little less warm. She’s not exactly unfriendly or hostile toward him or anything. She just seems a little more… wary of him than she has before. She looks at him like she’s not entirely sure what to do with him or how to behave around him anymore.

She reaches for Blaine first, and the sinking truth Kurt had realized back in December is a burning lie weighing him down, now.

Kurt is her father, but he still doesn’t feel like it.

The more things change, the more they stay the same, and even though Kurt will give Joy all the time and space in the world to adjust, the waiting makes him feel like he’s sinking.

Staying over Monday nights is helping -- or at least, Kurt thinks it’s helping him. It’s not the first time he’s stayed over during the week, but it’s the start of something new, something more permanent. Monday mornings, at least, already start with a family breakfast before Kurt leaves for work. The thing is, Kurt coming _back_ on Monday nights is new, and while he’s unsurprised that the first was a little awkward, he’s had slightly higher hopes for the second time around. He thinks leaving and coming back in the same day might make a difference for Joy (and maybe a small part of him hopes that she’ll miss him like she has before).

Still, Kurt doesn’t want to push her, and in the silent space he leaves open, he follows Blaine’s lead. Tonight, the awkward dance resumes after dinner as they’re finishing clearing off the table. Joy joins them after she’s brushed her teeth, shirt slightly damp and hair askew in places. Blaine smiles at her as he shuts the refrigerator door. “All clean?” he asks, kneeling in front of her. Joy nods, tucking her chin against her chest as Blaine leans in close. “Show me,” he prompts teasingly, tapping her chin with his finger. Eyes sparkling, she smiles and shows him her teeth, giggling when Blaine kisses her cheek in approval. “Now,” Blaine sighs, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes, “is it okay if Kurt gives you a bath tonight?”

Smiling dimming a little, Joy glances up at where Kurt is standing next to the table. Kurt tries to arrange his features into an encouraging smile and is rewarded when Joy turns her gaze back upon Blaine and nods her assent. As she leaves and Kurt makes to follow her, Blaine reaches for Kurt’s hand, groaning a little as Kurt helps him to his feet. “You okay?” Kurt checks.

“Fine,” Blaine laughs. “I just have a little more body to work with than I’m used to. I’d forgotten what it was like.”

Kurt drops his gaze and smiles, anchoring a hand over the slowly growing swell of Blaine’s abdomen. “You’re only fourteen weeks,” he reminds Blaine teasingly. “You’re going to have a lot more body to work with for the rest of the year. You’re growing a whole extra person in there.”

Blaine tilts Kurt’s chin up to force eye contact. “I’m _fine_ ,” he promises. “I’ve done this before, remember? And right now, _that_ person is waiting for you to give her a bath.”

Kurt softens. “Thank you,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss, “for giving me the opportunity -- for giving it to her.”

“She could’ve said no,” Blaine points out. “She could’ve asked me to do it instead. The fact that she agreed to let you do this means that she’s remembering that she was comfortable with you -- that maybe she still _can be_.”

Kurt manages a weak smile. “Time, right?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Blaine enthuses. He drops his hand from Kurt’s chin and studies him for a moment before reaching down to take Kurt’s hand in his. “Do you remember,” he muses, “when Ariel had a wall built around the castle because she and Eric thought it would keep Melody safe? And Melody just found a way around it because she resented being locked away and forced into being someone she wasn’t ready to be?”

“Technically, she found a way _under_ it,” Kurt corrects, “but go on.”

Blaine rolls his eyes but smiles all the same, free hand dancing up to rest at the nape of Kurt’s neck. “Ariel made the same mistake her father did. You _aren’t_ , Kurt.”

Kurt furrows his brow in confusion. “I don’t follow.”

“Your dad almost always gave you room to be yourself,” Blaine says softly. “Giving Joy time to adjust is giving her the opportunity to be comfortable with being _your daughter_.” Kurt inhales sharply and Blaine leans in even closer, resting his forehead against Kurt’s. “I _know_ how hard it’s been on you to watch her withdraw in the last week, but you’re doing the right thing, Kurt.”

The muscles in Kurt’s face relax again, and he can’t help leaning in for another kiss. “I love you,” he mumbles against Blaine’s mouth. “Thank you, _thank you_ ,” he sighs, pulling away. “I needed that. I’m not the world’s most patient person.”

“You’re learning,” Blaine reassures him. “And so is she. But in the meantime, you shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Kurt’s lips twist into a smile. “Into the ocean?”

“Into the ocean,” Blaine affirms with a laugh, releasing his hold on Kurt.

Anchors aweigh, Kurt goes after his voice.

Joy, for her part, is patient as he fills the tub with water for her and makes adjustments to get the temperature to where he knows she likes it. She accepts his hand as an anchor when she climbs into the tub, and Kurt is reminded of how close he’d felt to her last month. He remembers feeling like she’d trusted him, then, and it occurs to him, now, that maybe learning isn’t the right way to describe her hesitation.

This is about belief, and once again, Kurt feels like he has something to prove.

For the first time, he feels like he might be okay with that.

Still, she’s quiet as he washes her hair, hands playing idly with one of her bath toys. Keeping Blaine’s words in mind, Kurt ventures, “What adventures has Mr. Octopus had lately?”

Joy doesn’t look up at him, but her tone is almost conversational when she answers him. “He lost his hat.”

Kurt arches an eyebrow, amused. “I didn’t know he had a hat,” he says, reaching for the spare cup and filling it with water. “Head back, eyes closed,” he instructs, rinsing out the shampoo after she obeys. “Did he go looking for it?”

She nods. “In a cave.”

“Was it dark, in the cave?” he asks, reaching for the conditioner.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Was he scared?”

“No,” she says. “He had a friend.”

“Who?” he prompts, working the last of the conditioner into her hair before rinsing off the hands and letting it sit for a few minutes.

She glances around the edges of the tub briefly, clearly considering her options before she reaches for a green toy. “The turtle.”

Bolstered by the fact that Joy’s starting to come out of her shell again, Kurt smiles and rests his chin on his hand. “So what happened in the cave?”

Joy runs with it, spending the rest of bathtime concocting a surprisingly detailed tale for Kurt as he works out the tangles in her hair. Her eyes have more of their usual spark in them when he dries her off and wraps her up in a towel, and in an effort to continue encouraging her and make her more comfortable, he makes a point to let her choose her own pajamas. She starts to grow a little quiet as he helps her into them, though Kurt thinks that she may just be getting tired.

“Why don’t you pick out a book to read?” he suggests, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her soft _okay_ is like a magnet, drawing him to her. He’s startled when he presses a kiss to her forehead and finds it warmer than usual.

“Hey,” Blaine’s voice greets quietly from the doorway, prompting Kurt to push himself to his feet and move to join him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Kurt sighs, running a hand through his hair. “A little better, actually. Although --”

“This one,” Joy interrupts, holding a book out for Kurt. He smiles as he takes it from her, ready to move to the rocking chair to read, but his smile falters and disappears when she turns her outstretched arms to Blaine. “Up, please.”

Blaine glances over at him, apology apparent in his eyes. Kurt draws in a breath and forces a smile. Tonight has been at least the smallest of victories in getting Joy to warm up to him again, and he can carry that with him to help ease the sting of her choosing Blaine first -- then, now, but not always. Always is for them both, for the unit their trio comprises, and with his exhale, Kurt tries to remember that patience is a learned virtue. “Come here,” Blaine beckons, moving instead to the rocking chair and settling down. “You can sit in my lap.” Joy clambers into his lap with a little help and curls in close, eyes a little more guarded than before.

And just like that, Kurt sees the wall go back up.

With a barely constrained sigh, he sinks down onto the mattress at the foot of the bed and turns his attention to the book she’s chosen. He does his best to sound engaging, even if coming up with a voice for a peach named Rose makes him feel a little more ridiculous than usual. Her amused smiles and giggled commentary are all directed at Blaine, though, tucked away against the material of his polo. She _does_ deign to pay a little attention to Kurt again when he opts to sing a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jlfQeN1MHao) by The Supremes. Blaine joins him a few lines in, their voices harmonizing with ease. Still, it’s not enough to get her to sleep, and she seems more agitated by the end of the song, hands rubbing at her eyes. Blaine rubs at her back soothingly and presses a kiss to her forehead, humming a faintly familiar [melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4TaVJzkA-4) into her skin. This time, Kurt’s a little slower in following Blaine’s lead, unable to use his voice until the first refrain. Blaine’s selection seems to work better, and by the time they get to the last _oh-oh-oh, I’m on fire_ , Joy’s eyes have slipped shut, her breathing evened out.

Kurt rises from the edge of the bed to make room for Blaine to tuck Joy in, moving to shelve the book back into place. He lingers for a few seconds in the doorway before leaving, trusting that Blaine will follow him. Down the hall and into Blaine’s bedroom, Kurt flops onto his back on the mattress and stares unseeing at the ceiling. He feels the mattress sink with weight after a moment as Blaine joins him.

In the silence, Kurt’s head feels like it’s swimming, and he struggles to find an anchor to latch onto.

Joy.

“Um, her -- her head felt a little warm,” Kurt ventures after a moment, trying to pick up the thread he’d started earlier. “At least warmer than usual.”

“I noticed,” Blaine says quietly.

“I’m, uh -- I’m not sure if it’s anything to worry about,” Kurt admits. “She seemed fine, otherwise. Your frame of reference is probably better than mine, so maybe just keep an eye on her this week?”

“You know I will,” Blaine says evenly, rolling onto his side to face Kurt.

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, exhale sharp and heavy. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I know you know how to take care of her. I’m not trying to make this into a thing. I just -- I don’t know what else I’m supposed to _do_ ,” he says, dropping his hand and blinking over at Blaine. “I don’t feel like I’ve done anything differently since we’ve told her.”

“You haven’t,” Blaine agrees, scooting a little closer. “That’s a good thing, Kurt. If you changed the way you behave around her and treat her, it’d make her more confused. You’re doing _fine_ , Kurt. She just --”

“-- needs time, I know,” Kurt says wearily.

“And if she _is_ getting sick,” Blaine adds, “then it’s really not that unusual that she’d seek me out when she wanted to feel more comfortable.”

Kurt looks away and swallows hard at the memory of how inconsolable she’d been back in December. “Yeah, I know,” he says quietly. “I remember. It just… makes me feel like nothing’s changed.”

“Hey,” Blaine prompts gently, tapping at Kurt’s arm to get Kurt to roll over and look him in the eye. “You know that’s not true. She wouldn’t be struggling to figure out how to deal with all of this if things were the same as they were six months ago.”

And Kurt _knows_ that, he does. Joy’s acceptance of and attachment to him is still there, tucked away behind the wall and beneath the skin. It’s in the way she’d started to fall back into easy conversation with him, in the way she watches him when he sings. And there’s _more_ , Kurt knows, deliberately hidden for safe-keeping. He remembers the way she’d curled into his arms, the gentle curiosity of her fingers and the gifts she’s given him and the way she’s missed him when he’s not around. It’s all there, underneath the surface; she’s just… less forthcoming with certain things than she was before.

Kurt misses being close to his daughter.

Kurt takes a breath to steady himself and drops his gaze down to Blaine’s hand, fingers tracing the lines on Blaine’s palm. “I don’t want to push her,” he says carefully, because that, at least, is true. He may not be the world’s most patient person, but he’s not going to force his daughter to adjust more quickly. She needs time. She _deserves_ it. “I just -- I want to make sure that we’re doing whatever we can to make the transition easier for her. And right now, I feel like I’m…”

“Floundering?” Blaine offers.

“Not exactly the word I would’ve chosen, but --” Kurt stops, fingers stilling against Blaine’s hand as he flicks his eyes up to study Blaine’s expression. “You’re teasing me,” he deduces, noting the way Blaine’s bitten lip is doing nothing to hide the smile that’s bloomed onto his face.

A laugh bubbles up and bursts out of Blaine, lighting up his whole face. “I’m sorry,” he manages through his laughter. “I swear I’m taking you seriously. It’s just -- the opportunity was right there.” Kurt arches an eyebrow at him, lips twisting into something between a scowl and a smile. “Okay, come here, come here,” Blaine beckons, laughter tapering off as he lifts up an arm and waits for Kurt to come closer. Kurt exhales sharply, scowl giving way to a reluctant smile as he curls up against Blaine’s body. Blaine’s arm wraps around him and pulls Kurt in a little closer, his warmth comforting. “I _know_ how hard this is for you,” Blaine says again. “It’s hard for her, too. But I’ll tell you what -- I promise I’ll try and be a little more observant with her this week to see if there’s anything else we could do to make this easier on all of us, okay?”

Blaine’s heart beating under his ear, Kurt tries to relax. “Okay,” he agrees, and for now, it’s enough.

For now, it’s all he’s got.

Shifting uncomfortably under Kurt’s weight, Blaine wiggles around a little bit until he’s able to undo the button and zipper on his pants. He exhales in apparent relief as he pushes the material away from his body, the skin along his belly red and marked from where the waistband of his pants has clearly been digging in. “Clothes starting to get a little tight?” Kurt guesses.

“Clothes starting to not fit,” Blaine huffs. “I should really go out and at least buy a few pairs of new pants soon, but if Joy actually _is_ getting sick, I’ll have to wait.”

“You don’t have anything left from your last pregnancy?” Kurt asks, shifting a little so he can prop his head up on his hand.

“Um, no, not really,” Blaine admits. “After Joy was born, I wasn’t really planning on getting pregnant again or having more kids. I donated most of the clothes I wore when I was pregnant with her. I did the same thing with a lot of the stuff she had when she was a baby -- clothes and toys and bottles and stuff. My parents might have a few things left at their house, but we’ll probably have to make a list of things we need to buy for the baby.”

Kurt glances down at the swell of Blaine’s belly and drags the fingers of his free hand along the indentations the pants have made. “I could alter a couple of pairs of pants you have, if you want,” he offers. “Maybe some of the pairs you don’t wear as often? Just so you have some comfortable pants to go out in until you’re actually able to do some pregnancy shopping.”

A smile blossoms onto Blaine’s face. “We don’t even know if Joy’s actually getting sick or not.”

“I know,” Kurt says with a shrug, rubbing soothingly along Blaine’s bump before resting his hand on top. “But I’m almost done with Joy’s dress. I’ll probably bring it with me next weekend to see what final alterations I need to make. I’ll already be in the right headspace for working on some clothes for you. And letting out the waistband of some of your pants will be a welcome distraction, trust me.”

Something in Blaine’s eyes flickers and softens. “Okay,” he agrees softly. “That’s -- thank you. I’ll, um -- I guess I’ll try and pick out a couple of pairs for you to take with you tomorrow.” He sits up a little awkwardly, Kurt’s fingers falling from his abdomen as he does. Kurt rolls onto his back and scoots up on the bed to recline against the pillows as Blaine moves to stand next to the bed. He watches with an amused and slightly aroused smile as Blaine wiggles out of the offending pants with a defeated sigh and tosses them aside.

Blaine moves to his dresser, first, and as he pulls open the first drawer, Kurt can’t help blurting, “Please don’t feel like you have to put pajama pants on for my sake.” Blaine glances over his shoulder at Kurt, clearly amused. “I’ll have to take your measurements for the alterations,” he reasons, trying to cover -- and failing, if Blaine’s skeptical expression is anything to go by. “Okay, I’m enjoying the view,” he admits.

Blush tinging his cheeks, Blaine barks out a laugh and pushes the drawer shut. “While your ogling is appreciated,” he chuckles, moving to the closet to rifle through the hangers bearing his pants, “you actually _do_ need to take my measurements if you’re going to help me out with the pants problem.”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt laughs. “Pick out a couple of pairs and put them on top of my messenger bag. Do you have a measuring tape?”

“Somewhere around here,” Blaine answers distractedly, throwing a pair of pants over his arm. “Check the drawers in the nightstands first. If it’s not there, it’s probably mixed in with my art supplies for some reason.”

Kurt sits up the rest of the way and scoots toward the nightstand on Blaine’s side of the bed. He digs around in the top drawer briefly, the various assortment of post-it pads, pens, lube, and band-aids among other things familiar to him. He closes the top drawer shut quickly and moves to the bottom one, distracted from his search by two neatly wrapped gifts inside. “Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“What are these?” Kurt asks, unearthing the gifts and turning slightly on the bed to face Blaine.

“Hmm? Oh!” Blaine finishes folding the last of the pants he’s selected and drops them on top of Kurt’s messenger bag before moving back to the bed. “Those are for you,” he says warmly, sinking back down on the mattress and curling up against the pillows.

“O-kay,” Kurt laughs, kicking the drawer shut with his foot and bringing the gifts to rest atop the comforter. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Blaine says with a shrug. “I just finally got around to printing some of the photos from my camera and started working on some scrapbooks. I thought you might like these.”

With a curious smile, Kurt reaches for the gifts and unwraps them, revealing the framed photographs inside. Blaine reaches for one and turns it over, smiling at the image of Kurt and Joy in the aviary last month. “That was one of my favorites,” Blaine admits sheepishly. “But I thought that maybe you could keep it on your desk at work? I didn’t think you had any pictures of her there.”

“I don’t,” Kurt confirms, smiling despite the ache in his chest at the memory of how close he’d been to Joy, then.

“And this, um -- this one’s kind of obvious,” Blaine says, turning the other frame over to reveal the second photograph. It’s a shot of Kurt and Joy standing side by side in Blaine’s kitchen -- one Blaine must’ve taken on her birthday, if the various mixing bowls and sheet pan are any indication. “For the kitchen in your apartment,” Blaine explains unnecessarily. “I just thought -- after what you did for Father’s Day, I wanted to return the favor. This way, you can have pieces of her with you, too.”

In the wake of Joy’s withdrawal, the mementos almost mean _more_. They’re reminders of a better time -- a time when Joy trusted him without reservation, a time when she both sought and enjoyed his company. The photographs are _his_ something tangible, proof that Joy still has affection for him and a promise that she’ll share it again. And the second photograph -- the one of the two of them in the kitchen -- reassures Kurt that he _does_ have a place here. He has a family, and regardless of how unsettled things may be right now, he has the life he’s been making with them here waiting for him.

“Thank you,” Kurt says thickly, gripping the edge of one of the frames hard in an effort not to cry. “This is nice. I don’t -- I think all of the pictures I have of you guys are on my phone.”

Gently, Blaine pries Kurt’s fingers away from the frame and takes Kurt’s hand in his. “I don’t -- I realized, last week, that all of the printed photographs I have of you are from before. They’re in a scrapbook. It was a way to keep a piece of me with you.”

Kurt looks up at him. “And now that you have me again?”

Blaine presses a kiss to his palm, and Kurt loves him in all of his half-naked glory. “We weren’t over,” Blaine murmurs. “Our story isn’t, either. I started another book for us.”

Kurt remembers, then, that this is the beginning of a new chapter for them, and they are in this together.

He is not alone.

* * * * *

Upon entering his apartment after work on Wednesday evening, Kurt leans against his door until it clicks shut quietly behind him.

In his fortress of solitude, he feels very much alone.

He has long since felt more at home in Blaine’s apartment, with his boyfriend and daughter and half of his possessions there. He spends more of his nights there than he does here in his own apartment, though not by much. The thing is, Kurt’s apartment hasn’t felt quite this… foreign, before. He hasn’t felt as comfortable here in a while, but in the last week or so, the walls of his apartment make him feel less safe than he has before. His apartment has always afforded him the opportunity to be himself, to be comfortable in his own skin and in his identity. It’d felt a little strange, once he knew that Joy was his daughter, but it’s even more different now that she knows he’s her father. Even though he knows that giving her space and time to process and adjust is the right thing to do, every night that he spends in his apartment makes him feel like he can’t be himself, like he isn’t her father if he’s not with her. It’s ridiculous, Kurt knows, but he can’t _help it_ , and once again, his apartment serves as little more than walls between them.

Still, the nights he spends alone in his apartment allow him a little time to breathe and think and regroup. Even if he _were_ at Blaine’s apartment right now, things might not be any easier. Joy is officially sick now, as Blaine had informed him yesterday, and Kurt knows that Joy will probably be more comfortable with Blaine taking care of her right now. Besides, Kurt has sufficient distractions to last him the three nights he stays here -- the dress for Joy and the pants for Blaine. And taking the time to cook dinner for himself before he delves into either project provides him further relief -- being in the kitchen has always relaxed him.

A glass of wine tends to help him unwind, too.

He starts sipping on a red early on in the evening as he boils a pot of water for pasta. He opens his laptop and sets it on the counter, music of choice for the evening his copy of the _Possibilities_ album. The first two songs are exactly what he needs, just up-tempo enough for his hips to sway as he composes a salad and a garlic spread for a loaf of bread. By the time he gets to the third song on the album, though, the tempo has slowed down and the melody is melancholy enough that it feels too quiet in the air around him, the alcohol not doing enough to numb the ache in his chest.

Glass in one hand and free hand gripping the counter, Kurt’s gaze falls upon the framed photograph Blaine had given him on Monday night.

God, he misses them.

Quickly, Kurt drains the rest of his glass and sets it on the counter with a quiet _thunk_ before adding pasta to the pot of water. His throat burns for a moment as his body tries to adjust, a faint buzz starting to set in around the edges. It’s enough to relax his hands, which he’ll need when he breaks out the scissors and needles later, but it doesn’t fill the void he feels. Briefly, his hand twitches toward the open bottle of wine, but he digs around in his messenger bag instead until he unearths his phone. He scrolls through his contacts idly as the pasta cooks, his thumb hovering briefly over his dad’s name before he moves past it and tucks the phone into his pocket with a sigh. He doesn’t want to call his dad. Well, he does, because he knows that it’ll make him feel better, but Kurt also knows that there’s not a lot he could get out of calling his dad at this point. There’s nothing all that new Kurt has to share with him, nothing his dad could say that Kurt hasn’t already heard before. The reassurances Kurt has been getting from everyone -- his dad and Carole and Blaine and Isabelle -- have helped him maintain the little patience he has, but they haven’t made him feel… inspired.

He just wants to be able to be Joy’s _dad_ without it being this huge issue.

Kurt doesn’t want to call his dad because he’s trying to _be_ his dad -- or rather, he’s trying to be to Joy what his dad has been for him. And he’s trying -- he’s trying so _hard_ to be patient about this, to give her space to be comfortable with who she is, to be comfortable with him again. He’s trying so hard not to be what he has been -- a cliche, impatient twenty-something searching for something to root his identity in. Which -- it feels a little ridiculous at times, because Kurt _knows_ who he is. He’s known who he is for a very long time, and even the parts of him that have changed and will change are parts he’s fairly comfortable with. There is more to him than just who he is as Joy’s father, but the thing is, he hasn’t really had a chance to experience and understand that part of himself yet -- at least not fully. And that drives him crazy almost above everything else, because if he doesn’t know himself, he’s not sure who the hell he even is anymore or if he’s even capable of doing this.

He doesn’t want to doubt himself.

He doesn’t want Joy to doubt him.

Pasta and water drained into a colander and dinner composed, Kurt carries his various assortment of plates and bowls and glasses to the coffee table in the living room. He sinks onto the couch with a sigh, digs his phone out of his pants, and sends a quick text to Blaine asking after Joy’s health. He sets his phone down on the coffee table deliberately after that, intent on not bothering Blaine with anything else. It’s not like Blaine doesn’t know how much Kurt is struggling, anyway. Blaine knows him better than anyone else, has observed and noticed and listened and talked this out with him more than once. Kurt doesn’t think there’s a whole lot Blaine would be able to say or do for him right now, anyway, and he doesn’t want to pull Blaine’s focus from taking care of Joy while she’s sick. He figures Blaine’s probably getting Joy ready for bed right now, anyway, so while he waits for a reply, Kurt reaches for his bowl of pasta and digs in.

Over the gentle lull of Annie Lennox’s [voice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvUuKLBdEH4), the silence in Kurt’s apartment is deafeningly loud.

For the first time in a long time, Kurt wishes he weren’t alone.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being alone -- there isn’t. Kurt feels like he spent a good portion of his childhood and adolescence mastering the art of being alone, though admittedly, that wasn’t always by choice. He learned how to thrive on solitude because it was all he had for a long time. At sixteen, learning and trying to foster friendships with the members of New Directions and the Warblers was new for him. It’d helped him feel comfortable enough in his own skin to be honest with his father -- to be _brave_. He’d found value in his relationships with his peers then in spite of how dysfunctional and unhealthy they were at times. They’d all benefited from the family they’d been, back then, support and solace when they would’ve otherwise been alone.

Things were different, once he moved to New York. He still kept in touch with people, but it was a lot harder with the distance between them. And he’d hated that because it was such a cliche, because he’s never believed that distance should be a reason to drift apart. He’d been adamant that it wasn’t going to affect his relationships, especially with Blaine and Rachel and Finn. He realizes now that it wasn’t just distance that weakened the ties that had bound them together. They’d lost their common ground and safe space after graduation, and the distance between them all only served to remind them of it. Once he’d moved to New York, Kurt had been able to reforge that connection with Rachel and set out on his own path, but he also recognizes now that a lot of what happened in those few short months contributed to losing Blaine. Cutting ties with Blaine that fall had _hurt_ because Blaine had been one of the only people Kurt felt like he had left. Cutting Blaine out of his life meant that most of the other connections he’d had available to him -- no matter how weak or fragile or forgotten they were -- were likely soon to follow the path of demise. The same thing happened with Rachel, just a few short months later, and by the time Kurt had returned to Lima for Finn’s funeral in the spring, the ties were all but gone.

At that point, it’d been easier to be alone. It hurt less.

After that, Kurt had spent more than three years seeking refuge in these walls. His skin had felt scorched, his bones battered and bruised. Coming home to an empty apartment at the end of the day had been a welcome relief to him, then. It afforded him the time and quiet and safe space he needed to mend _himself_. It’d been selfish of him in ways he’d been comfortable with, ways he’s not sure Rachel would have ever understood. He’d _needed_ that time for himself, needed the time to put the broken pieces of himself back together. If he’d been friends with Rachel in those three years, or if he’d run into Blaine earlier, Kurt’s fairly sure things would’ve gotten worse. He wouldn’t have been able to mend with Rachel there, and he knows now that he ran into Blaine at the right time. Any earlier would’ve resulted in botched attempts at reconciling and more broken pieces for them both.

Joy might have _actually_ gotten hurt.

Bowl empty and heart aching, Kurt is reminded of exactly _why_ he doesn’t do what ifs.

Things are different now. He’s still close to his family, which has dwindled down to his parents, and he’s still much closer to Isabelle than anyone probably should be to their boss. Mending ties with Blaine has been _invigorating_ , a welcome breath after being stifled and silenced for too long. And in spite of the struggles he’s currently undergoing, his relationship with Joy makes him feel capable again.

She makes him feel brave.

Switching bowls, Kurt smiles.

She really is Blaine’s daughter.

In the quiet of his bravery, though, Kurt realizes that there is a reason he’s feeling discontent despite the relationships he’s currently fostering. Sure, part of it has to do with the fact that he is not exactly the world’s most patient person, but he also knows that each of his relationships has a biased blind spot. His parents are, well, his _parents_ , which means that they’re well-meaning but not always objective. They know him almost as well as Blaine does, but there is always an undercurrent of control, there. While Kurt has happily sought out their advice and support and help before, he is absolutely uncomfortable relinquishing control. His relationship with Blaine has possibly the biggest blind spots of all. They’ve both grown up a little, less quick to anger and better at understanding the other’s needs. But Kurt knows that their affection and regard and in some ways their history make it impossible for them to be unbiased and untangled. Part of who they are _is_ who they are when they’re with each other, and while Kurt is comfortable and sure of who he is apart from anyone else, he does like the person he is when he’s with Blaine. And at the end of the day, Isabelle is still his boss, and no amount of Tuesday night cocktails with his co-workers is going to change the fact that making real friends there blurs the boundaries between his professional and personal lives.

And there, underneath his joys and discontents, is what he really needs -- a _friend_.

He’s finally ready to not be alone anymore.

The problem is that the last real friend he had was Rachel, and their whole relationship ended so spectacularly badly that Kurt’s not even sure he knows where to begin, now. In hindsight, his relationship with Rachel feels like a burnt fuse, sparking fast and leaving smoke and debris behind, clouding his perception and judgement. She’d irritated him for so long that it’d taken him by surprise when he found himself becoming friends with her, back in high school. Sure, they’d had a fair amount in common, but he’d never thought that _Rachel_ of all people would be the person he’d finally feel comfortable opening up to. Mercedes has chipped away at some of his walls, sophomore year, but Rachel had _demolished_ them. He thinks that’s why it hurt so much when their friendship had come to an end. Rachel didn’t just push him away; she’d pushed and pushed and pushed until he’d fallen, and by then, he had nowhere to land.

He’s better off without her. He’s never believed that more than he does now. All of the things that had bothered him about Rachel were also some of the things he had in common with her, and while Kurt would never apologize for his ambition or ask Rachel to apologize for hers, her selfish and single-minded ideology had a tendency to be infectious. Kurt knows that it’s healthy to be a little selfish, that it’s necessary to take care of himself in order to be able to take care of other people. He knows it’s not wrong to want things or to pursue them. Rachel had always taken those things to the extremes, though, and the odds that she actually cared about hurting people along the way were about fifty-fifty. It was easy to be like Rachel when he was with her, and to this day, that’s still what scares Kurt the most.

He doesn’t want to be the worst version of himself.

The trouble is that his friendship with Rachel is honestly probably the closest he’s ever been to someone, outside of family and Blaine and maybe Isabelle. He wants to be that close to someone again in addition to the relationships he already has, but his relationship with Rachel was so confusingly toxic that Kurt has no idea where he should even begin. His relationship with Rachel blossomed first out of convenience and proximity, as had most of his other friendship back then. Kurt’s not entirely sure he knows how to go about making friends, to be honest, and even if he did know how, he wouldn’t know where to look.

There’s a part of him that’s scared to try. He feels braver than he has in a long time, to be sure, but Rachel had left him so _scarred_ that Kurt still feels the sting of it even now. It echoes all through him, reminding him of who he’s trying very hard _not_ to be. And that’s the part that scares him the most, because while Kurt knows he needs this -- needs a nurturing relationship outside of the ones he has -- he also knows that it’s an inherently selfish thing to do. And again, it’s the type of selfishness that he’s okay with because of its necessity and intentions, but he thinks he understands, now, why Blaine had been so afraid to say yes to getting back together back in February. Being selfish even for the best of reasons means pulling focus away from something else, and as much as Kurt is trying really hard to take care of himself, his priorities are with Blaine and Joy and the baby. He doesn’t want anyone to question that.

He doesn’t want to question himself.

And with the distant echo of bicycle bells ringing in his ears, he is absolutely, irrevocably sure of what he wants and where he wants to be.

* * * * *

**I’m Not That Typical Baby: A Glimpse Into The Evolution of Adolescent Fashion**  
 _by Kurt Hummel_  
Posted: Friday, 24 June 2016 at 17:07 EST

All I wanted for my third birthday was a pair of sensible heels -- at least, this is the story my father likes to tell. In hindsight, I’m fairly certain it’s something I heard my mother say at one point, but the request was really only the beginning of my eclectic tastes (well, eclectic for a boy in Ohio). Over the next fifteen years, I experimented with vests, ties, tutus, skinny jeans, trucker hats, exotic feathers, trendy cut-off ponchos, zippers, kilts, boots with a slight heel, brooches, cardigans, flannel, colored pants, animal patterns, neckerchiefs, and form-fitting sweaters that stopped at the knee.

My daughter’s entire wardrobe is an explosion of colors, patterns, and texturally interesting fabrics. She loves bright pastels -- pinks and greens and blues and yellows -- and has a fondness for animal patterns that I’m positive she gets from both of her fathers. Her favorite pair of shoes have rather large flower appliques at the toes and aren’t particularly well-suited for running around at the park. Recently, she turned three, and as she gets older, we’re trying to let her choose her own outfits as long as they aren’t totally impractical. For someone as fashion-conscious as me, it’s been a struggle to watch her select pieces like a busy, heart-patterned, rainbow-colored dress and not give her any negative feedback or criticisms.

My mother supported every interest, desire, and passion I had until she died when I was eight. Without her at the helm, my father and I both felt a little lost and lacked direction. Still, despite our often misguided attempts at compromise in order to make trials a little easier to bear, I almost always felt like I had my dad’s support. He encouraged me to pursue whatever sparked my interest at the time -- music, performing, fashion, writing, sports -- which made it easier when I finally decided to come out to him. Any disagreements over my fashion choices -- usually concerning the kilts and the form-fitting sweaters that stopped at the knee -- almost always came out of concern for my safety and well-being.

In comparison, raising an eyebrow at my daughter’s vibrant style selections seems tame in comparison to the reaction my father probably had when I asked for a pair of sensible heels at that age. My choices were always different from those of my peers growing up. At nine, most of my classmates wore blue jeans and graphic tees to school every day. I had my fair share of those in my dresser, but I also harbored a deep affection for button-downs and vests and ties and fabulous hats. I loved clean lines and classic pieces. I owned a pocket watch. I remember hearing people tell my dad that they were impressed with my Sunday best, but it always struck me as odd. I wasn’t dressing for church. I was dressing to impress, to appear more composed, to look older. I wanted to be treated like an adult. I wanted to _be_ an adult.

I realize, now, that I wanted to be perceived as an adult because I already felt like one. After my mother died, I spent several years actively trying to take care of my father. I learned how to cook and attempted to teach him. I tried monitoring his diet and took care of him when he got sick. I spent a lot of time worrying about him because he was the only parent I had left. I grew up because I felt like I had to, and by the time I got to high school, it was just another thing that made me feel very much ‘other’.

At that point, fashion changed. Every choice I’d made prior to high school had been about exploration, experimentation, and expression. I picked out clothes because I found them visually or texturally interesting, because I wanted to be perceived a particular way. My choices seemed to matter more, once I got to high school. The world expected me to take myself more seriously without actually taking me seriously, and I was so ostracized from my peers at fourteen that any choices I made just seemed to amplify my differences. Style wasn’t just about expressing myself anymore; it was about defense.

Clothes became my armor --words, my weapons.

I felt brave.

That bravery -- that _courage_ is what landed me an internship with Vogue.com. My ‘otherness’ was suddenly prized, valued and worthy. The choices I made for myself suddenly meant that I could offer insight into the choices of others. I found myself among people who had influence over the changing tides within the industry, and it didn’t take me long to realize that for an industry that prides itself on creativity and innovation, the people at the helm are instrumental in dictating the choices everyone else makes. It makes sense to me, now, that I trusted the fashion industry to guide me when I felt lost.

Still, the older I get and the longer I stay submerged in the industry, the more I notice that the waters I’m navigating are not so different from Ohio. Both eccentric creativity and conventionality are praised in the fashion industry. It’s as acceptable to color inside of the lines as it is to think entirely out of the box, but anything between tends to be frowned upon as, well, out of place. It’s why, as a child, my choices felt approved by the people I revered, because they tended to fall to either extreme. I was either obedient -- bound to the clothing deemed appropriate for adults -- or different enough to stand out.

My wardrobe now is a little muted. It’s full of staples that the rest of the world deems acceptable -- slacks, jeans, button-downs, ties, scarves. There’s enough flair in my clothes to set me apart, though, enough to keep me safe within these walls. I still have a love for textures and patterns and accessories, but my choices aren’t quite as bold as they were while I was growing up. Experimenting used to mean pieces like bondage-style shirts, my armor comprised of detailed accessories like a hippo head brooch. Now, experimentation means a lime green shirt with seagulls on it, my armor reduced to the words I don’t speak.

And I wonder -- did I grow up too fast? Did my experiences trying to care for a single parent and my exposure to the lofty opinions of the fashion industry push me in and out of boxes too quickly? Am I missing a part of who I could be because I skipped some steps along the way? Did donning adult clothes force me to grow up more quickly? Did I have a choice? Am I less brave than I used to be?

At some point, we all stop taking risks. It’s easier to conform to conventionality and accepted practices, easier not to live the life of ‘other’. It’s easier to put away childish things, to deny ourselves the things that used to make us happy, the things that used to identify us and set us apart. At some point, we lose our innocence because the world chastises it out of us. “Big kids don’t do this,” it says, and children hear the implications loud and clear -- youth is who you are but not what you should aspire to be. Our choices only matter when we grow up.

Screw that, kids.

Somewhere along the way, we forget that who we are helps us become who we will be. I am not the same person I was even five years ago, but there are elements of that version of me still around. They’re the same pieces I’ve carried with me since my childhood, when all I wanted for my birthday was a pair of sensible heels.

I think about who my daughter is, now -- tiny and polite and obsessed with colors and textures and animals. I wonder if ten years from now she’ll still gravitate toward pieces like the heart-patterned dress, if she’ll still have an affinity for bows or if she’ll hold onto the same piece of jewelry for years like I’ve held onto a particular airplane brooch that I bought when I was seventeen. I wonder if she’ll always view fashion the way I still try to, as a means of self-expression and exploration. I wonder if her eyes will still hold the same spark, her fingers the same reverence.

I worry that she’ll lose that.

I realize that I can’t protect her from everything. I can’t control what other people say. I can’t predict the way it’s going to affect her. But I don’t want to be the person who makes that spark die out. I don’t want to be the one to chastise it out of her. I don’t want to be the person who discounts her youth while she still has it. I don’t want to be the person who tells her that the choices she makes now, that who she _is_ now doesn’t matter.

I want to be the person who sits at the foot of her bed for fifteen minutes while she digs through her drawers trying to find the one pair of lime green pants she wants to wear that day. I want to be the person who is silently blinded by the heart-patterned dresses and sequin-bedazzled shirts. I want to be the person who suggests wearing a pair of white leggings with either of those options not because I think it’ll help tone down the overall effect, but because I’m worried she’ll get cold. I want to be the person who makes her wear sneakers to the park but packs the flower shoes in the accompanying backpack.

I want to be the person who gives her the inside of the box, the outside of the box, and all of the lines and crevices in between. I want her to feel safe.

I want her to _aspire_ for something other than the accolades of age.

I want her to be brave.

If wearing her heart on her sleeve -- quite literally -- makes her feel brave, she’ll get nothing but my silent support.

And that hippo head brooch? _That’s_ what got me hired.

* * * * *

Altered pants and yellow dress tucked safely away in his messenger bag, Kurt knocks on Blaine’s front door and waits to be let in. It takes a little longer for Blaine to answer than normal, but when he does finally open the door, Kurt sees why -- Blaine’s carrying Joy in his arms, her head nestled against his shoulder and her limbs wrapped around Blaine’s neck and middle like a koala. Her breathing is audible even from three feet away, heavy and labored and hollow. Brow knitted in concern, Kurt silently moves into the apartment and shuts the door behind him before setting his messenger bag on the floor. “She’s not getting any better, is she?” he murmurs, taking a step toward them.

“It’s complicated,” Blaine sighs, careful not to speak too loudly. “This is just kind of how colds progress with her. They start in her nose and move down into her throat. If it’s bad, it goes into her chest for a few extra days and gives her a bad cough.”

“She must be miserable,” Kurt figures, brushing hair out of her eyes. “She’s not normally asleep this early.”

“Yeah, she kind of just… crashed tonight,” Blaine says, rubbing gently at her back. “She does tend to sleep more when she’s sick.” Joy coughs a little, the sound startling violent to Kurt. She wakes up a little but doesn’t really open her eyes, instead pressing her face against Blaine’s neck and whining. “Shh, it’s okay,” Blaine soothes, rubbing at her back again. “Let’s get you in bed, okay?” He glances over at Kurt as he turns to head down the hallway. “Her, um -- her medication’s in the kitchen next to her cup. Can you get her some fresh water and bring them to me?” Another cough, deeper and phlegm-filled, and Blaine digs in his pocket for a tissue, frowning. “Maybe set up the humidifier, too?” he suggests.

“Sure,” Kurt agrees, glad to be able to help and actually _do_ something. “Go get settled. I’ll meet you in there.” Blaine sets off down the hall without protest or additional request, his dulcet tones fading the farther away he gets.

In the kitchen, Kurt opts to refill Joy’s cup and grab the medication first. He figures taking the medication now will help her get into a settled sleep again sooner. He totes those down the hall to her bedroom first, kneeling down next to the rocking chair and ducking his head to try and get Joy to look at him. It takes a minute or two of Blaine gently prompting her to get her to comply, and she looks so _tired_ when Kurt finally gets a look at her that it makes his heart ache. He wishes he could do more for her, wishes he could bring her comfort the way Blaine does (or at least the way Blaine is trying to right now, anyway). But Kurt knows that at least Blaine is finding ways to make him feel included and useful, and right now, this _is_ helping. He hands off the medication to Blaine, first, figuring it’ll be easier to get Joy to actually take it that way. She’s a little fussy about it at first but ultimately fairly quickly compliant, her eyes following the bottle as Blaine hands it back to Kurt. Kurt smiles warmly at her and holds out her cup, heartened when she reaches for it almost immediately. And still, she doesn’t look away, even as she drinks steadily from her cup. It’s honestly more than Kurt was expecting upon arrival tonight, and it gives him a little courage to try testing the waters with her again. “Try to sleep, honey,” he urges. “Hopefully you’ll start feeling better in the morning.” He hesitates for a moment before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead, bolstered by her eyes following him as he pulls away. “Good night.” Her fingers flex a little against the edge of the cup, almost like an awkward wave, and Kurt can’t help his smile as he turns his attention to Blaine. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll bring the humidifier in.”

Blaine nods in understanding, mouth turned up into the the smallest of smiles. “Thank you.”

The next several minutes are mostly quiet save for the sounds of Kurt setting up the humidifier. Joy’s coughing alters between sounding better and worse, but Kurt knows that the humidifier will help clear her chest and throat and make her breathe a little easier tonight. He knows the benefits of using a humidifier at any point during an illness, even just as a precaution; Rachel had used one constantly in the loft.

Kurt takes a deep breath and puts Rachel out of his mind.

He’s _home_ now.

He sets up the humidifier in Joy’s room without speaking, leaving Blaine to rub Joy’s back and sing quietly to try and soothe her in the meantime. Kurt grabs a book from the shelf, just in case, but he leaves it on the bed for Blaine to retrieve if need be. In its place, he picks up Margaret Thatcher and kneels down next to the rocking chair again. “She makes you feel better, right?” Joy nods slightly and reaches for it, squeezing it tight. Kurt turns his attention to Blaine. “Take your time,” he says, leaning up to press a quick kiss to Blaine’s jaw before rising to his feet. “I’ll be in the living room waiting.”

There’s something… curious in Blaine’s expression, but again, he only nods. “Okay.”

Kurt retreats to the living room, content to let Blaine take the reins for tonight. He’s not quite so… bitter as he was before about Joy seeking Blaine out over him. Kurt gets it, he does, especially since she’s still pretty sick right now. And even though she’s sick and clearly miserable, she seems to be warming to him again. Besides, Blaine had made an obvious effort to have Kurt help in the attempts to make her feel better, because Blaine _understands_ and Kurt loves him for it. It’s enough, for tonight, and with all of his thoughts and feelings and frustrations and desires put into words, Kurt thinks that maybe it won’t be quite so difficult for all of them to get through this.

He sinks down onto the couch and plucks Blaine’s tablet from the coffee table just for something to do while he waits. He’s a little surprised when familiar words show up on the screen, the end of his most recent column backlit. He knows that Blaine knew about this particular one because Kurt had asked to make sure it was okay to talk about Joy, but the column hasn’t even been live for more than two hours yet. Kurt figures Blaine must’ve opened it to read while holding Joy earlier, not counting on her falling asleep so early. It’s -- it’s not like Kurt hadn’t expected Blaine not to read it. He’d e-mailed Blaine the link when the column had gone live. It’s just -- Kurt hadn’t expected him to read it so quickly. It means the conversation they’re going to have about it will probably come tonight instead of in a couple of days, and while Kurt feels better about having channeled his energy into something productive, he’s not entirely sure he’s ready to have a big discussion about it.

He’s reread it twice by the time Blaine joins him in the living room and sinks down on the couch next to him with a sigh. “She go down okay?”

Blaine nods. “Yeah. Took a little bit for the humidifier to have any effect, but I think she was wiped enough that she just wanted to go back to sleep.” His eyes fall to the tablet in Kurt’s hand. “Checking for typos?” Blaine teases warmly, smiling.

Kurt almost smiles. “You’ve read it, I take it.”

“I have,” Blaine affirms, taking a throw pillow and moving it behind his back.

Kurt glances down at the screen of the tablet before setting it back down on the coffee table. “What did you think?”

Blaine nudges Kurt’s leg with his foot to get Kurt to look back up at him. “I liked it,” Blaine says. “Although, it was a little more... personal than I was expecting.”

Kurt barks out a dry laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I was a little surprised by that, too. I don’t usually get that personal in my column, but in a way, it was kind of… cathartic. After I wrote it, I felt less… anxious? Calmer.”

Blaine’s smile falters. “You know you could’ve just called and talked to me, right? I mean, what you wrote is fine, and I know I’ve been a little preoccupied because she’s been sick, but --”

“No, I know that, but it’s not --” Kurt sighs and scoots a little closer, holding out his hand across the space between them for Blaine to take. “That’s not what this was about. I know I can talk to you about this. I _have_ talked to you about this. I wasn’t using the column as a replacement for talking to you -- or my dad or Isabelle.”

Blaine studies him for a minute before speaking. “So what… was it about, exactly?”

Kurt takes a breath to steady himself, grateful that he at last has his words again. “Earlier this week, you told me that I was doing the right thing by giving her time and space. And intellectually, I knew that. It was just… really hard. But you said I was doing more than just giving her time and space to adjust to the idea and the reality of me being her father. You said I was giving her space to be herself, to learn how to be comfortable being my daughter. And that… really stuck with me. Being able to put it into words helped it resonate. It made this easier.”

Blaine’s smile blooms back onto his face, and it’s with the utmost warmth that he closes the gap between them and captures Kurt’s mouth in a kiss, hand anchoring on Kurt’s face. His eyes are full of affection when he pulls away, that same, curious expression on his face. “On my birthday, you said you weren’t so afraid to let yourself need me anymore. You said that things would get easier, with time.” A hesitant beat, and Blaine’s eyes fall to their hands. “I don’t think you need me as much as you thought you did.”

Kurt tilts Blaine’s chin back up so their eyes meet. “But I _do_ still need you,” he insists. “And more importantly, I _want_ you. I _choose_ you. I talked to you before I wrote the column. I wouldn’t have written it if I hadn’t tried talking things out with you first.”

Blaine removes Kurt’s hand from his face and kisses Kurt’s fingertips. “I’m glad you did,” Blaine says. “Talk to me first. It gave me something to think about while you were gone. And I -- I _did_. I promised you I’d try and find a way to make this easier. I know Joy’s been a little… clingy with me since we told her about you.”

Kurt sighs and curls up against the back of the couch, trying to stay positive. “I understand it, to a certain degree, especially right now. She’s sick. I’m not going to hold it against her.”

“I know,” Blaine says. “But I thought about it while you were gone this week, and I realized that she keeps turning to me because I’m always here.”

Kurt’s brow furrows in confusion. “Well, obviously,” he says, fighting back a laugh. “I’m not sure I follow, though.”

“I mean -- look, for a long time, she only had me,” Blaine says by way of explanation. “So when it’s just the two of us, she knows she can depend on me. But when she has the option -- like when you’re here four nights a week -- she still chooses me because I’m still here. I’m still an option for her.”

“Okay,” Kurt says slowly, stomach churning in apprehension. “I’m… not entirely sure I’m comfortable with the direction this is going in.”

Blaine inhales and sits up a little straighter, taking Kurt’s other hand. “All I’m saying is that maybe she needs to spend some time alone with you again. If I’m not here, if I’m not an option, then she has to learn to depend on you again.”

Kurt shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “That sounds an awful lot like forcing her hand.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Blaine protests. “I just meant something like me leaving her with you for a few hours, that’s all. Nothing prolonged or traumatizing.”

“What… exactly did you have in mind?” Kurt asks hesitantly.

Blaine bites his lip, clearly just as hesitant about the prospect as Kurt. “I… have plans to meet a friend for brunch or -- or lunch tomorrow,” Blaine admits, looking awkward. “I agreed to them because I thought it’d be a good opportunity for you and Joy to have some time alone.”

“She’s _sick_ ,” Kurt points out unnecessarily. “She’s miserable, especially without you.”

“You’ve watched her when she’s been sick before,” Blaine reminds him. “That was a long day and you both did just fine until the very end of it. This would only be a few hours in the middle of the day. And I’ll have my phone with me. If things get really bad, you can call or text me and I’ll come right home.”

“Blaine, I don’t know --”

“She’s trusted you before,” Blaine insists. “She’s warming back up to you. I honestly think it’s better to do this now, while she’s sick. She needs to learn that she can depend on you, too. She needs to remember that you’re here to take care of her. That only happens if we create the opportunity, and right now, the only way I can see that happening is if I remove myself from the equation for at least a few hours, Kurt.”

Kurt bites his lip, debating. It’s -- he’s been feeling better about the situation recently, especially since he’d written the column. And Joy _has_ been warming up to him; that much was true even on Monday, before she was really sick. He’s fairly confident in his ability to take care of her on his own, even when she’s sick. It’s just -- she’d been so miserable, back in December. All she’d wanted by the end of the day was _Blaine_ , and Kurt is still having a little trouble imagining her calling him Papa. She’s probably more sick now than she was then, and even though Blaine’s only proposing being gone for a few hours, Kurt doesn’t want to deny her the one person he knows will make her feel better.

And yet.

“You’ll have your phone on the whole time?” Kurt asks.

“The whole time,” Blaine promises.

“And you’ll come home if I ask?”

There’s something aching in Blaine’s smile, but he squeezes Kurt’s hands tight. “I’ll come home.”

Kurt takes a deep breath to collect himself and sits up a little again. “Okay,” he agrees, trying his best not to sound reluctant. “We can give it a shot. But I’m not -- I’m not expecting miracles or anything here, okay? I figure the best we can hope for is that she lets me take care of her without asking for you. I’m not expecting her to suddenly be well-adjusted just because we’re alone together for a few hours.”

Blaine’s smile gives way to the ache hiding behind it. “It’s okay to _want_ things, Kurt.”

“I know,” Kurt says, quiet. “I’m just trying not to ask too much of her too soon.” He hesitates, then adds, “I kind of feel like I did that with you.”

Blaine takes a deep breath and looks down at their hands again. “You did push me,” he admits, “but I needed that. And, honestly, the fact that we’re taking things slower now kind of makes up for how fast things have happened so far. Actually, um --” He hesitates, here, before leaning over and picking up a small box from the coffee table that had previously escaped Kurt’s notice. Blaine studies the box for a moment, a faint smile appearing on his face, before he lifts his gaze back up and holds the box out in offering. “I feel like this is long overdue.”

Kurt’s mouth twists into a wry smile as he takes the box from Blaine. “You’re just full of gifts this week, aren’t you?”

It’s Blaine’s turn to bark out a laugh and curl up against the back of the couch now, and he looks genuinely _happy_. “Consider it a symbol of my trust. I think you’ve more than earned this.”

Curious, Kurt arches an eyebrow but pries open the lid of the box. “A key?”

“To the apartment,” Blaine says, like it’s obvious. A beat, and he looks like he’s trying not to laugh at Kurt’s lack of response. “To _this_ apartment,” he clarifies.

“No, yeah, I got that,” Kurt breathes, plucking the key from the box and turning it over in his hand. “I’m assuming this is my own copy?”

“Yes,” Blaine says, not holding back his laugh anymore. Kurt tries to take a breath to steady himself and finds his chest tight, his throat thick and his eyes suddenly watering. “Oh, _Kurt_ \--” Blaine moves in a little closer and takes one of Kurt’s hands in his own again, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “Kurt, I -- when we were arguing before Father’s Day, you said that you felt like you were relegated to three nights a week here, like you had to have my permission to be here, like Cooper got some sort of special pass because he’s family. I never wanted you to feel that way. And I know you’ve gone from three nights to four, but -- look, I know that we both have some… control issues. But like I said, you’ve earned the right to have a little more control and influence around here, especially with Joy. And that’s not because you passed some ridiculous test or anything, okay? You proved yourself even when you didn’t really need to. You want to be here, with us? You want to be here for Joy? This… lets you be here without having to go through me.” Eyes closed, and Blaine’s breath is warm against the back of Kurt’s hand. “I don’t want this to be an obstacle, Kurt. I don’t want to get in our own way.”

And in the quiet, Kurt hears his own voice echoing back at him -- his clothes in the closet, his spare toothbrush in the bathroom, the key in his hand. He’s carved out a place for himself here and Blaine has kept it safe. But this -- this is so much more than just a way to unlock a door or permission to come and go as he pleases. Having his own key opens up a world of opportunities for him, and Kurt has never felt more heard in his life.

Blaine’s eyes open, but he doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand. “You _are_ family,” Blaine says, not for the first time. “ _We_ are a family.” And for the first time, Kurt thinks he’s really starting to believe it in the daily proof, despite the current circumstances. “There is always a place for you here.”

And between their hands, the pieces continue to move into place.

* * * * *

In the morning, the air is thick with nervous anticipation.

The humidifier seems to have done Joy some good overnight, her cough a little less hollow and mucus-filled. Still, the lethargy she normally experiences when she first wakes up is persistent late into the morning, her energy low. Blaine had noticed that she seemed to eat more at breakfast than she has all week, which makes Kurt feel better about being left alone with her for lunch. Now, she’s curled up on the couch watching cartoons, nursing her third watered down cup of grape juice. Kurt’s content to leave her be, for now, knowing that resting will help her feel better sooner.

He’s just finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes when Blaine joins him in the kitchen. “Nice shower?” Kurt asks, drying off his hands on a towel. Blaine nods absently, hands tugging awkwardly at his polo. “How do the pants fit?”

“Fine,” Blaine says with a resigned sigh, finally leaving his shirt alone. “It’s nice not to be exploding out of them. I can’t say the same for my shirt.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “It seems to fit fine.”

Blaine leans against the counter and closes his eyes. “It’s not that,” he dismisses. “It’s just -- I definitely can’t really hide the fact that I’m pregnant anymore.”

“Were you ever trying to hide it to begin with?” Kurt inquires, the barest hint of a laugh in his voice.

Blaine opens his eyes and levels a glare at Kurt, mouth twitching up at the corners. “No,” he retorts, sounding amused. “It’s just… taking a little getting used to, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to deal with this drastic a change in my body. And the more obvious it is that I’m pregnant, the sooner it’s likely that Joy will start asking questions.”

Kurt moves next to him and leans against the counter, their arms brushing against each other. “We’re going to have to tell her eventually.”

“I know,” Blaine says, and it’s the least exasperated he’s sounded about the issue in a while. “It’s just -- she’s still sick right now. I just want her to get better. And -- honestly? I was kind of hoping to get through the holiday before we talked to her about it. She’s still warming up to you again and we haven’t decided whether or not to introduce her to your parents while we’re in Ohio and --”

“-- and it’s a lot for a three-year-old to deal with all at once,” Kurt surmises, eyes darting briefly over to the living room where he knows Joy’s curled up even if he can’t see her over the back of the couch. “Pacing?”

“Pacing,” Blaine affirms, resting a hand over his increasingly obvious bump. Kurt follows Blaine’s gaze to the living room, surprised when he looks back and sees how upset Blaine looks. “I’m doing the right thing today, right?” he asks, voice quiet and barely there.

“You’re asking me?” Kurt laughs, the ache of nervousness in his chest.

Blaine glances over at him, smiling weakly. “I have complete faith in you,” Blaine reassures him. “It’s just -- I remember how hard it was for me to leave her with you, back in December. And it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you.”

“You hated leaving her when she was sick,” Kurt supplies. “I remember. You said you’d never not been home for dinner or bedtime before.”

Blaine’s smile grows tight and uncomfortable around the edges, not quite fading yet. “It’s gotten easier, leaving her with you for things like that in the last six months.”

“But?” Kurt prompts.

Smile gone, Blaine drops his gaze to the floor. “I’ve tried really hard to be here for her,” he says softly. “If I could manage without a family member or a babysitter or the daycare center, I’d do it. If I had to ask someone else to look after her, it was almost always out of necessity. The only times I ever really indulged were last fall, when you and I were reconnecting.” A pause, and Blaine’s gaze lifts to the living room again. “But this?” he says, sounding strained. “This isn’t totally necessary. This feels… selfish in a bad way.”

Kurt takes a breath to steady himself, eyes stinging, and shifts his hand across the counter to rest atop Blaine’s. “This was your idea,” he reminds Blaine gently.

“I know that,” Blaine says, a little sharp. “And I -- a part of me knows that it’s probably at least a little necessary to do this in order to help her adjust. But she’s _sick_ , Kurt. I just -- I can’t get past the knot of guilt in my gut that’s telling me I shouldn’t be doing this, that I should just stay here.” An audible swallow, and Blaine’s eyes are watering when he looks back over at Kurt. “I’m just having a little trouble being okay with leaving her when she’s sick. In some ways, this is a lot harder than it was in December.”

Heart aching, Kurt pushes himself off of the counter and moves to stand in front of Blaine. He wraps his arms around Blaine to pull him into a hug, exhaling softly when Blaine sinks against him and curls in close. “I know this is going to sound lame, but it’s going to be okay,” he promises, trying to reassure himself as much as Blaine. “We’ve done this before. This time, it’s only for a few hours.” He pulls back a little and offers Blaine a half-hearted smile. “We’re well-stocked on juice.” Blaine chuckles wetly but doesn’t seem all that placated, so Kurt rubs at the back of his neck in an effort to soothe him. “You’ll have your phone with you the whole time,” Kurt says, echoing Blaine’s words from the night before. “It works both ways. You can call if _you_ need something, too, okay?”

“Yeah, I know.” Blaine takes a breath to steady himself before moving Kurt’s hand from his neck and pressing a kiss to his palm. “I guess Joy’s not the only one who’s clingy, huh?” he jokes, sounding a bit self-deprecating.

“You want to take care of your daughter when she’s sick,” Kurt reasons. “I’d say that’s pretty normal.”

Blaine smiles, still small but this time much more genuine. He looks less anxious than he has all morning, and the temporary calm is enough to quell Kurt’s nerves briefly. “I guess I should just get this over with,” Blaine sighs, sounding resigned. “I should just say goodbye to her and go or else I’m never going to get out the door.”

“You’d have to cancel your brunch plans,” Kurt adds. “ _The Popover Pantry_ , Blaine.”

As if on cue, Blaine’s stomach growls, startling them both into a laugh. “That _does_ sound amazing,” he allows, patting his bump affectionately. “I’m sure the baby will appreciate it.”

“Baby’s not the only one,” Kurt murmurs, leaning in and brushing his lips against Blaine’s. “Bring some home for us?”

Blaine laughs into his mouth, his smile warm and infectious. “Savory or sweet?”

One last kiss to Blaine’s lips and Kurt rests his forehead against Blaine’s. “One of the savory ones?” he ventures. “The various types of cheese with the --”

“-- the red pepper flakes,” Blaine finishes for him.

Kurt’s smile breaks open, and he pulls away a little in an attempt to compose himself. “And, um -- for Joy, I was thinking maybe one of the sweet ones? She seems to be partial to berry flavors, so maybe the raspberry one?”

Blaine’s smile softens. “That’s probably a good idea,” he says. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, considering she’s been living on various soups and juice and crackers all week.” His smile dims, his gaze drifting past Kurt to the living room again. “I guess I should probably get going, then.”

“Yeah, probably,” Kurt echoes faintly, but he’s not entirely sure he sounds all that convincing.

Without further delay, Blaine pulls out of Kurt’s embrace, fingertips brushing lightly across Kurt’s arm as he walks by to head into the living room. Kurt’s skin crackles and sparks to life under Blaine’s touch, and it’s not lost on Kurt that with Blaine’s approaching absence, he’s finally getting a chance to wear this version of his skin.

He’s finally getting an opportunity to grow into the person he thinks he’s meant to be.

Kurt tries not to hover when they join Joy in the living room, wanting Blaine to leave a good impression for him and part on good terms with Joy for the few hours he’ll be gone. Joy’s curled up against one of the throw pillows when they make their way in front of the couch, Margaret Thatcher tucked dutifully in her arms. Her eyes spark to life a little when Blaine kneels down awkwardly in front of her, and Kurt tries his very best not to be jealous. “Hey, honey,” Blaine greets warmly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little bit,” she answers, voice quiet.

Blaine smiles encouragingly, but Kurt can still see the ache there, behind his eyes. “That’s good. Um -- I’m going to go out for a little while to see someone,” he says gently. “But I’ll only be gone for a little while, okay? Kurt’s going to stay here and take care of you and make you lunch. I’ll be back when you wake up from your nap.”

The news is enough for Joy to sit up, the spark dimming from her eyes as she glances briefly over at Kurt. Again, Kurt tries not to push, doesn’t speak, just smiles. It’s an exercise in restraint he’s not entirely comfortable with, but it’s necessary with Joy right now, at least until Blaine walks out that door. Kurt knows that he’s giving Joy space to be herself, and he knows that the fact that he generally hasn’t changed his behavior around her is supposed to be a good thing. And it’s not as if him holding back is exactly changing his behavior, but he hasn’t been entirely himself around her lately.

And it occurs to him, then, that he’s been doing the exact same thing Joy’s been doing. He’s withdrawn. He’s careful. He’s quiet. He’s not quite sure how to be around her.

He feels like he’s suffocating.

He can’t imagine how Joy must be feeling.

He has to keep trying. He has to do better. He has to make this easier.

They need to _breathe_.

Joy looks confused and more than a little disappointed. “Why can’t we come with you?”

The ache reaches Blaine’s smile, now, evident in his expression. He rubs his hands soothingly over Joy’s legs and arms before reaching down to take her hands in his. “I know you’re feeling a little better, sweetie, but you’re still pretty sick. You need to stay home and rest so you can keep getting better, okay?”

Joy sighs heavily, prompting her to cough into her sleeve, but much to Kurt’s surprise, she doesn’t prolong her protest. “Okay,” she says, and god, it’s honestly the saddest Kurt has ever heard her sound.

Still, it’s Blaine who seems to be the one having trouble with the decision to leave, if the way he’s lingering is anything to go by. He leans in to press a kiss to Joy’s forehead before engulfing her in a hug, chin resting heavily atop her head. He closes his eyes, exhaling audibly, and in that moment, Kurt loves Blaine enough to almost ask him to stay.

Almost.

“Okay,” Blaine says, sniffing a little as he pulls back and looks Joy in the eyes. “If you need me, you can tell Kurt and he’ll call me, okay?”

Joy nods and actually deigns to smile a little, which Kurt finds encouraging. Still, she looks _tired_ , circles evident under her eyes and face still lacking in color a little. Kurt knows that most of her compliance is probably just due to sheer exhaustion and an unwillingness to spare what little energy she has on an argument. The fact that she’s agreeing to the arrangement for a few hours with a small smile on her face is honestly probably all she’s capable of right now, and Kurt feels a little like they’re taking advantage of her while she’s sick. But he also remembers what she’d been like back in December, at the end of the night. She’d been sick and exhausted, then, and it hadn’t deterred her from fighting sleep and screaming for Blaine. To some degree, Joy’s approval must be a choice, and despite how miserable she is, Kurt feels his spirits lift.

The aching love in Blaine’s expression is undeniable and transparent, now, but he pushes through it, pressing one more kiss to Joy’s forehead before pulling away completely. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you,” Joy yawns, patting Blaine’s hand in lieu of a wave.

Blaine’s smile wavers, just a little, and he pushes himself to his feet so quickly that Kurt has to take a step back. Kurt’s startled when Blaine leans in without preamble and presses a hot, hard kiss to his mouth, fisting a hand in Kurt’s graphic t-shirt. Kurt’s eyes slip shut and he inhales sharply, hand coming up to rest on Blaine’s forearm. Their skin barely makes contact, though, before Blaine’s pulling away, and by the time Kurt opens his eyes, Blaine’s already moved past him. Kurt spins around to follow him, dizzy and lips tingling, but he stops short of walking to the front door when he sees Blaine’s back facing him. Blaine’s quick and quiet about gathering up his phone and wallet and keys from the side table near the front door, and Kurt stays rooted to the spot, knowing this is one time it’s okay to let Blaine go.

The door clicks shut behind Blaine, and Kurt tries to remember how to breathe.

Joy tugs at the material of his pants to get his attention, and Kurt turns to look down at her without hesitation. “Will you hold me?”

Kurt’s smile breaks gentle and open onto his face, and with settled skin, he exhales with ease. “Sure,” he agrees amicably, sinking down onto the couch next to her and lifting up an arm so she can move closer. Margaret Thatcher in hand, she crawls into his lap and curls in close, face tucked against his neck. Kurt moves an arm around her, ready to pull her close, but her cup on the other end of the couch catches his eye. Awkwardly, he reaches for it, dancing it over toward him with his fingertips until he can grasp it and offer it to her. She takes it from him and tucks it into the crook of his other arm for what he can only presume is safe-keeping. He wraps his other arm around her, hand anchoring at the back of her head.

Actions speak louder than words, and with his voice against him, Kurt doesn’t feel the need to speak just yet.

She’s quiet against him, breathing mostly mellow and calm in comparison to last night’s agitation. But Kurt also finds that he doesn’t really need Joy to speak, either, at least not right now. For now, he’s content to sit here with her while the colorful cartoons continue in the background. Under any other circumstances, he’d normally try and bring some variety into the mix. Blaine’s fine with letting her watch television or films, but he’s also fairly consistent in providing Joy with a plethora of other activities to do and keep her entertained. She loves the park and games and books and coloring, but Kurt knows that right now, this is honestly probably all that she has the energy to do.

Eventually, she curls up next to him instead of on him, juice cup in hand, but outside of requests for a refill and a movie, not much changes in their quiet reverie until close to an hour after Blaine has left. They’re halfway through “For a Moment” when Joy murmurs Kurt’s name into his chest to get his attention. He _hmms_ in acknowledgement, looking down at her when she doesn’t speak after a moment. “What is it?”

She blinks up at him, looking surprisingly awake, and there’s a curious warmth in her expression as she studies him. “Can I have a cookie?”

He’s a little caught off guard by the request but glances over at the watch on his left wrist, mouth twisting a little at the time. “It’s getting pretty close to lunchtime,” he says, looking back at her. “You need to eat something else first. It’ll help you feel better.” The disappointment at his denial is obvious on her face, but she doesn’t say anything and turns her attention back to the movie. Kurt takes it as a win. The fact that she’s even remotely interested in something as simple as sweets bodes well for her overall health, and Kurt knows that she’ll definitely appreciate the popover Blaine’s supposed to bring home later.

On screen, Kurt hears the harmony between Ariel and Melody’s voices even through the dischord.

It’s just past noon when the credits start to roll, and Kurt figures that now is as good a time as any to fix lunch. He’s getting fairly hungry himself, and if Joy’s appetite is returning, he thinks it might be safe to suggest something other than soup and crackers. Warm and encouraged, Kurt glances down at Joy and rubs her back, smiling when she looks up at him. “Are you hungry?”

She nods, her voice quiet when she answers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” he echoes. “Okay, let’s go fix something to eat,” he says, sitting up a little. He stops short of pushing himself to his feet when she reaches her arms out for him, recognizing the silent request to be held. And it’s -- it’s not as if he’s going to deny her. He’s not ungrateful. He’s spent the last several weeks longing for this, missing the way she fits tucked against him, warm and tiny and trusting. He’s spent the last several weeks watching her reach for Blaine, ache heavy in his chest when she curled up against Blaine. The last couple of hours have been _nice_ , simple, easy -- much easier than Kurt had been anticipating. He doesn’t want to be wary or suspicious of her, and he knows better not to look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s just --

The good has always been mingled with the bad, and Kurt _hates_ that he’s been conditioned to expect them hand in hand, now.

Joy is his -- their -- something good. He owes it to her to be the same in return.

Kurt takes a resolute breath to steady himself and pulls Joy into his arms, warmth blooming in his chest when she clings a little tighter as he pushes himself to his feet. The plastic of her cup is hard and awkward against his chest, the nose of Margaret Thatcher is knocking against his collarbone, Joy’s hair is tickling his nose, and yet.

Kurt is happy.

It’s a little awkward, trying to maneuver in the kitchen with Joy in his arms, but he manages to get the refrigerator door open without much trouble. “Do you want some more juice?”

She shakes her head. “Water.”

“Water it is,” he sighs, bumping the door shut with his hip and moving to the sink to rinse out her cup. “Daddy said you’ve had a lot of soup this week,” he says, filling up the cup with water. “I bet you’re pretty tired of it.”

“Yeah,” Joy agrees, tracing the design on his shirt. She pauses after a moment though, her hand stilling against his chest, and looks up at him with the same curious warmth from before. “Can I have a cookie now?”

“Not now,” Kurt says, holding firm. “You need to eat something else first. You can have a cookie after.” Joy sighs heavily, but again, she doesn’t say anything in agreement or protest, just goes back to tracing designs on his shirt. Kurt holds out her cup in silent offering, brow furrowing a little when she doesn’t take it. She actually kind of ignores him, a little, and he’s forced to set the cup down on the kitchen table for later. He turns his attention to one of the cabinets, instead, trying to focus on the matter at hand. He figures she’ll be less crabby and a little more compliant when she has real food in her stomach. The cookies she’s asking for are on the top shelf, in the corner, but he ignores them in favor of looking for something substantial other than soup to fix for lunch. “Let’s see what we’ve got,” he sighs, adjusting his hold on her when his arms start to burn from carrying her weight. “What would you like to eat?”

Joy glances into the cabinet with vague interest before doing a double-take, perking up a little. “There!” she says, pointing toward the upper corner where the bin of white chocolate chip cookies sits. “Those ones.”

Kurt sighs in frustration, trying not to be too annoyed with the fixation. “Not now.”

“ _Please_?” she asks, sounding almost as exasperated as he feels.

“No,” he says again, doing his best not to sound impatient. Apparently four _no_ s isn’t enough though, and promptly ignoring his repeated response, Joy squirms a little in his arms as she stretches out a too-short arm in an attempt to grab hold of the container herself. Patience wearing thin, Kurt shifts Joy to his side to put some distance between her and the cabinet before closing the cabinet with a rather deliberate _thunk_. “ _Nope_ ,” he reiterates, turning around and moving toward the center of the kitchen. “Let’s figure out real food for lunch first.”

Joy heaves another great sigh, much more dramatic than the last, and although she’s stopped squirming, the look on her face reminds him startlingly of Cooper in all of his theatrical glory. Her expression reads very much as _cookies are totally real food, get with the program_ , and it takes everything in Kurt not to laugh at her.

“Let’s see,” he sighs, glancing around the kitchen in hopes of finding some inspiration. “I could make some sandwiches. There’s tuna or peanut butter or -- ooo, I could do grilled cheese,” he suggests, glancing sideways at the refrigerator, his own mouth watering at the thought. “Does that sound good?”

Looking resigned, Joy turns her attention back to tracing patterns on Kurt’s shirt and shrugs. "I guess so.”

Kurt moves to the breadbox on the counter, unearthing the loaf and setting it aside next to the butter tray. “I’ll tell you what,” he offers, opening the refrigerator door and digging around in the cheese drawer with one hand until he finds the kind he’s looking for. “If the grilled cheese makes your tummy upset, I’ll make you something else, okay?” Cheese on the counter and refrigerator door shut, Kurt presses a kiss to Joy’s forehead before setting her on her feet on the ground. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he tells her, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “And then I’ll come back and make lunch, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, the first real one he’s gotten out of her since Blaine left this morning. Her hair falls in front of her face again, causing her to pucker her lips and blow at it uselessly. “Can I have my bow?”

“Sure,” he laughs. “I’ll pull your hair back when I come back from the bathroom.”

“The pink one!” she calls after him as he moves from the kitchen into the hallway.

“The pink one!” he calls back, mentally trying to figure out where the hell they’ve left it. It’s her favorite of her entire collection and she wears it often. He hasn’t seen it since his arrival last night and he has no idea if she wore it at all in the three to four days he was gone this week.

He goes to the bathroom first, taking the two minutes of solitude to clear his head and regroup. It’s obvious that Joy’s at an awkward point in her cold. She’s starting to feel better, which means her energy levels are a little higher and her appetite’s starting to return, if the multiple requests for cookies are anything to go by. But she’s still _sick_ , and with both Blaine’s warnings and Kurt’s experience in December, it’s really not all that surprising to Kurt that Joy’s starting to grow a little… crabby. Kurt doesn’t blame her; he gets fairly miserable when he gets as sick as she is right now. It’s his job to be patient with her, to let her vent her frustrations, to keep her well-fed and give her medication and help her sleep.

Once he’s finished washing his hands, he digs around in the drawers in the bathroom in search of her bow. He’s ultimately unsuccessful, though, so he moves across the hall into her bedroom. He tries sorting through the organized clutter on top of her dresser and nightstand without making too much of a mess, frowning when his search turns up nothing. Quickly, he starts to rifle through her drawers, skipping over the ones he’s familiar with and zeroing in on the few he’s never opened. He smiles when he pulls open a drawer that’s clearly designated only for her collection of hair bows, the bright explosion of colors and sparkles the makings of a treasure chest. But her pink bow isn’t among the rest of them, and it’s with a heavy sigh that Kurt closes the drawer and turns to survey the room, hands on his hips.

The mess of tangled blankets on the bed catch his eye, and on a whim, he gravitates in that direction, wondering if the bow is mixed up in them. It takes him a minute to pull the blankets apart, but nothing falls out of them. Frustrated and wanting to get back to the kitchen quickly to avoid an extra crabby Joy, Kurt gets on his hands and knees and looks under the bed frame, his patience wearing thin when he doesn’t find it there. With an exasperated huff, Kurt sits back up and tosses the pillow on the bed aside.

The pink bow falls into his lap.

Kurt blinks down at in surprise before realizing where it must have come from -- the pillowcase -- and bursts out laughing.

Patience.

He can _do_ this.

With an amused smile on his face, Kurt pushes himself to his feet and tucks the bow into his pocket before turning to fix the blankets on the bed. Satisfied, he finally makes his way back out into the hall and heads to the kitchen to fix lunch. When he turns the corner, he stops just shy of crossing the threshold into the kitchen, startled by the sight that greets him. Margaret Thatcher has been abandoned on the floor and Joy’s pushed one of the chairs from the table to the counter and is already balancing precariously on her knees as she climbs onto the counter and she’s headed for the cabinet with the cookies and Kurt is too transfixed to move because this is fucking _dangerous_ and oh god, _what if she falls and hits her head oh god oh god oh god_ \--

“Joy, _no_!” he snaps, sharp and loud. His feet are moving before he can even really think about it, and it’s less than five steps before he’s there and his hands are on her and she’s safe. His heart is _pounding_ and he can hardly _breathe_ and he’s suddenly, inexplicably _angry_. “What were you thinking?” he huffs, pulling her tight against him.

She looks as startled and as scared as he feels, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tries to adjust. “I just -- I wanted a cookie --”

“And I already told you _no_ ,” Kurt reprimands, pushing the chair back to the table and picking Margaret Thatcher up off of the floor. The adrenaline is _coursing_ through his veins now and he doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t know how to handle this, doesn’t know how to not freak out over the what ifs and fuck fuck fuck he can’t do this. “You know you’re not supposed to climb on the counter like that,” he breathes, trying to exhibit some semblance of control.

“But --”

“No buts,” he says, exhaling sharply through his nose. Think, think, think, he has to think and get his heart to stop racing and he needs an anchor but Joy is in his arms and _Blaine isn’t here_.

Blaine.

He has to be Blaine, right now.

“You know what happens when you misbehave,” Kurt says, swallowing thickly and moving toward the hallway. “You have to sit in timeout for five minutes.”

“ _No_ ,” Joy whines. “I don’t want to --”

“I know you don’t want to,” Kurt says, barreling on as he makes his way down the hall toward her bedroom. “But you know this is what happens when you get in trouble. You have to sit in your room for five minutes and then we’ll talk about it after.”

“ _No_ ,” Joy protests again, squirming in his arms. “No, I don’t want to -- _no_ ,” she says again, voice pitching a little high and loud. And he _knows_ that sound, knows what follows if he doesn’t pacify her, but he doesn’t have a _choice_. These are the rules Blaine has set up, ones they almost never have to use and _why_ does Kurt have to be the one to use them, why today? _No_ again, whined and emotional and _fuck_ , she’s started crying and Kurt isn’t in any position to comfort her.

“I know you’re upset,” Kurt says evenly, raising his voice to be heard over her increasing bellowing. He sets her down on her bed and takes a step back, intent on not getting too close. He’ll lose focus if he does, and right now focus is the only thing preventing the adrenaline from taking over completely. “You need to sit here for five minutes and remember why you’re not supposed to climb on the counter. And you can’t play with your toys and you can’t read your books.”

“But --”

“ _No_ ,” Kurt says again. She just cries _harder_ , face turning red and snot running down her nose and cough sounding just as rattled as the night before. Kurt knows that crying is probably only making her feel worse than she already does, but there’s no reigning her in now, and it takes every fiber of his being to take another step away from her. “I’ll come back when it’s been five minutes.” _Barely_ keeping it together, Kurt quickly glances at his wristwatch before turning away from her. He forces himself back out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him.

Back against the door and hand shaking on the handle, Kurt closes his eyes and hears his voice screaming back at him.

He feels like he’s going to throw up.

Unsteady on his feet, Kurt takes two shaky steps across the hall and leans against the bathroom door, willing himself to calm down.

He just yelled at his daughter. He just had to _punish_ his daughter for misbehaving -- something she almost _never_ does.

He can’t do this.

He’s beginning to wonder if he even can -- if he _ever_ can.

Lost and feeling defeated, Kurt presses his back against the bathroom door and sinks down to the floor, facing Joy’s closed bedroom door with Margaret Thatcher in his hands.

He doesn’t understand. He’s not entirely sure where this came from or why it had to happen now. It’s -- he knows that she’s crabby and less compliant when she’s sick. He knows she gets overtired and complains and is harder to console. But none of that makes sense in light of _this_. She’s never been quite this hard-headed about something before, at least not in all the time Kurt’s known her. He never would’ve expected that something as simple as an unrelenting sweet tooth would lead to such reckless behavior -- something Joy _knows_ she’s not supposed to do. And the thing is, she knows _why_ , too. Kurt’s listened to Blaine explain it to her a hundred times, listened to Joy’s easy compliance and never seen her question or rebel against it.

It’s the first real time Joy’s exhibited any sort of disobedience or put up a fight with Kurt, and he can’t get past the twisting feeling in his stomach that tells him it’s not a coincidence. For all that he thought she was starting to warm to him again, it’s still only been two weeks since they told her that Kurt was also her father. Kurt’s been _stupid_ , because while he’s maintained that Joy needs time to adjust, he’s also held her to the same expectations he’s had of Blaine, that the time before she knew -- before _he_ knew -- should still count for something. He doesn’t know why he expected that argument to carry weight with a three-year-old, although he’s not sure he was entirely aware he even had that expectation of her until just now. But more than anything, Kurt’s intuition is screaming at him from the other side of that door that this happening _today_ is not a coincidence, not with Blaine gone and Kurt left in charge.

Deep down, Kurt knows that Joy’s testing him, even if she’s not totally aware of it.

Adrenaline gone, Kurt drops Margaret Thatcher into his lap, buries his face in his hands, and starts to cry in tandem with his voice on the other side of the door.

He’s never felt _less_ like himself, but he’ll take this over the way he’d felt in the kitchen earlier. He doesn’t want to relive the way his heart had leapt into his throat and lodged there, doesn’t ever want the rush of adrenaline that comes from that kind of fear. He doesn’t even want to _think_ about what it would be like to lose her, doesn’t want to think about losing his voice again and being more vulnerable without her. He can’t connect the pieces without her, not now, not after everything they’ve all been through until now.

The skin he’s been growing into feels like ash, now, and Kurt is so _tired_ of losing people.

Hand in hand, the good mingles with the bad, and Kurt has nothing left to anchor him.

“Papa?”

Startled, Kurt removes his hands from his eyes and lifts his head, blinking blearily until his vision clears. The bedroom door is open just enough for Joy to peer through the space she’s created, her fingers curled around the edge of the door. Belatedly, Kurt realizes that he heard her in the sudden quiet because she’d stopped crying at some point. “Can I come out now?”

With a quick glance at his watch, Kurt realizes she’s been sitting in her room alone for a whole fifteen minutes. And that makes him feel even worse, because it’s just another thing he’s failed at, but there’s not much he can do about it now other than follow through. Sniffing to regain his composure, Kurt nods and beckons her over to him with a wave of his hand. “Come here.” She takes her time in complying, tentative and clearly nervous, but she _does_ comply, and Kurt feels a twinge of hope in his chest when she slips her hand into his proffered one. “Do you know why you got put in timeout?”

Joy drops her eyes down but doesn’t pull her hand away, and for the first time in what feels like a long time, Kurt thinks he has her undivided attention. “I climbed on the counter.”

Kurt swallows and tries to ignore the visuals in his head. “And you know why you’re not supposed to do that?”

Eyes back up, and for all that Joy looks as sick and exhausted and cried-out as she probably feels, there’s a warm recognition behind her eyes that Kurt feels like he hasn’t seen in ages, sparking back to life. “I might fall down.”

“You might fall down,” Kurt affirms breathlessly. He takes a second to make sure he keeps as much of his composure as he possibly can before he reaches out his free hand with the utmost hesitation, almost afraid to brush the curls out of her eyes. “If you fall down like that, you could really get hurt,” he emphasizes, knowing that she knows it but needing her to remember. And again, his heart leaps into his throat, but his skin feels almost the same as it had under Blaine’s touch earlier, cracking open anew. He anchors a hand on her cheek, feeling more vulnerable than he did even a few minutes ago. His voice belongs to him now, breaking uneven when he speaks. “You _scared_ me when you climbed up there. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay? I love you.”

And just like that, a light dawns in Joy’s eyes, beyond the dark circles beneath them and the blotchy patches on her cheeks and the dried edges around her nose, and the walls come tumbling down. The last vestiges of hesitation are in the tone of her voice when she speaks. “Like Daddy does?”

And _oh_ , _there_ Joy is.

Broken and so beyond ready for repair, Kurt nods and doesn’t hesitate when pulling her into his arms. “ _Just_ like Daddy does,” he says, cradling her head in his hand and closing his eyes. A beat, and then Joy’s fingers are curling into the material of his shirt.

And just like that, Kurt grows into his skin. Together, they breathe, and Kurt _finally_ feels like he’s moving forward.

“‘m sorry,” she mumbles against him, quiet and almost unintelligible. And Kurt almost laughs because it’s so like her, polite and well-mannered and very much the person he first met back in October, the person he took care of in December. He’s suddenly struck with the realization that despite the dramatic turn the afternoon has taken, things could still be so much more difficult. It’s not _easy_ , not by any means, but Kurt also knows that it could be so much worse. He knows Joy’s an anomaly, knows that she’s more well-behaved and less prone to tantrums and stubbornness and selectiveness. As _hard_ as this transition and adjustment has been on both of them, it occurs to Kurt now that this hasn’t been the worst case scenario. She could’ve made today unbearable, could’ve rejected any food until she’d gotten what she wanted, could’ve shut him out completely.

Joy has the power to _break_ him, and even though Kurt feels bindingly fragile, the pieces start clicking into place.

Kurt Hummel is a father.

Head spinning, Kurt shakes his head a little before opening his eyes and pulling back, trying to center now that he’s anchored. A deep breath in, and Kurt offers up the most genuine smile he can muster at the moment. “I, um -- I bet you’re really hungry by now, huh?” Joy nods in reply, the ache of hunger obvious in her eyes, and Kurt is so beyond done fighting. “Okay, let’s go make lunch,” he sniffs, plucking Margaret Thatcher from his lap and tucking her against Joy’s chest. He adjusts his hold on Joy to make sure she’s secure before pushing himself to his feet and making his way down the hall into the kitchen. “Do you still want grilled cheese?”

Fingers running over the material of Margaret’s ears, Joy glances up at him with only small traces of hesitation in her eyes. “Can I have peanut butter?”

“Sure,” Kurt agrees amicably, making rounds around the kitchen to gather what he’ll need and tossing things on the kitchen table. He grabs an apple out of one of the drawers in the refrigerator, and, after a moment’s debate, the container of cookies from the cabinet before settling down in a chair, Joy settled on his lap while he works. He’s careful to keep the knives away from her and sets Margaret aside once he’s got the sandwich made. Joy waits to start eating until Kurt’s cut up the apple into slices, though, and it’s those she reaches for first. Neither of them makes much attempt at conversation while they eat, but it’s almost comfortable again, the ease of the quiet between them.

It’s a start.

There’s only a small corner of her sandwich left by the time she eyes the cookie he’s set out for her, and he can see her hesitate before reaching for it. Awkwardly, she tries pulling off a piece instead of just taking a bite, and Kurt’s just about to offer to help her when she finally succeeds in breaking the cookie into two not-so-even halves. He blinks into a surprised smile when she holds out one of the halves in offering. “For you,” she explains unnecessarily.

“Thank you,” he says warmly, taking it from her and setting it back down on the plate. “I’m going to save it for later, okay?” A twitch of a smile in acknowledgment and Joy turns her attention back to her own half. Some of her hair falls in front of her eyes, causing her to blow uselessly at it to try and get it out of the way, and for the first time in over a half hour, Kurt remembers the bow in his pocket. “Here,” he laughs, digging awkwardly in his pocket to unearth the bow. “Let me help you.” Quickly, he pulls her hair back into a ponytail and fastens it with the tie attached to the bow, doing his best to make sure the more stubborn locks won’t spring free anytime soon. “There,” he sighs, straightening the bow. “Better?”

Joy nods and looks up at him briefly with a slightly warmer smile before taking a bite of her cookie, and she looks so _much_ like Kurt’s mother in that moment that it takes his breath away. She is so _many_ pieces of him -- his mother and his love of fashion and his voice and his potential for opportunity and his love for Blaine. Kurt knows he exists without her -- he _does_ , alone and apart and independent and stubborn, his voice his own again. He feels that now more than ever, now that she seems to be coming to terms with him being her father. They are not the same person -- not the same people they have been or are or will be -- and Kurt remembers what Blaine had said to him, last night. _I don’t think you need me as much as you thought you did,_ Blaine had pointed out, and Kurt thinks the same is true now, with Joy. He doesn’t think he quite _needs_ her the same way he did before, and he’s not sure Joy’s ever really needed him at all. But this -- Kurt and Blaine and Joy and every combination they make up between them -- has always been about so much more than just need.

This is about want, and Kurt feels like he’s been chosen.

It takes Joy yawning to get him to focus again, and as she rubs her eyes tiredly, he notes that she’s finished her half of the cookie. “I’m sleepy,” she mumbles, sagging a little against him.

“I’ll get you ready for your nap in a minute,” he promises. “You need to take some of your medicine first.” He reaches past her to grab it from the center of the table and portions it out for her. “I know it probably doesn’t taste all that good,” he allows as she swallows.

Nose wrinkled, Joy smacks her lips in apparent contemplation before looking up at him very seriously and declaring, “It tastes like pink.”

Vividly, Kurt thinks of Rachel again, of jealousy and selfishness and a person who was much, much too jaded and bitter. But Kurt is not that person anymore -- he’s not Rachel, and he’s not the version of himself he was when he was still friends with her. He remembers telling Isabelle as much last month, remembers the admission that he probably wouldn’t be able to be a parent to Joy if he was still friends with Rachel.

In reality, Kurt has felt conflicted over whether or not he’s actually capable of doing this -- of raising a child. He’s _wanted_ to, obviously, and he’s been trying really, really hard to grow into this version of himself. He’d felt better about his chances, after he’d published the column yesterday, but his confidence has been shaken rather violently after today’s roller coaster. Back in December, he’d felt incapable of doing this -- of being a parent the way Blaine has been for over three years. That’s changed, over time, bolstered by Blaine’s support. Kurt knows that it took Blaine time to really believe in him -- in his desires and efforts and capability. But Blaine has been all in for what feels like a very long time, even if it’s only been a short while, his previously proclaimed _you can do this_ a constant refrain keeping Kurt going. As _rough_ as today has been, Kurt feels like Joy is starting to believe in him, too.

He may not be the best version of himself, but he’s certainly _better_ , and now that they’re moving forward, Kurt isn’t quite so afraid of regressing to the worst version of himself anymore.

He just has to keep trying.

“Okay,” Kurt sighs, setting the medication back down on the table and reaching for Margaret Thatcher. “Naptime.” Another yawn from Joy as he hoists her into his arms and rises to his feet, and he can see the fatigue and lethargy from earlier starting to settle in again. He thinks she’s probably running out of fight, too, exhausted from their earlier altercation and her persisting illness. She’s heavy in his arms as carries her down the hall and into her bedroom, but he doesn’t set her down again. “Do you want me to read you a story?”

She shakes her head and nuzzles her face against his neck, arm tightening around Margaret Thatcher. “Sleepy,” she mumbles again. “I don’t feel good.”

Kurt makes a sympathetic noise and sinks down into the rocking chair, cradling her against him. “A nap will help you feel a little better,” he promises. “Your body just needs to rest.”

“‘s what Daddy said,” she murmurs, clearly fading fast. Still, she’s present enough to reach a hand up and brush her fingertips over his throat. “Sing?” she requests, blinking up at him tiredly.

Even though his voice is his own again, Joy is still the one to draw it out of him, and Kurt finds himself wishing his mother could hear him.

With each verse he sets the stage, _the sky was yellow_ to _the way the colors ran, the orange bled the blue_ , but he ends each one the same -- [I Do It For Your Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2m_fx9kJuG8).

There’s a familiarity to the warm weight of her against him as she sleeps with her legs wrapped around his waist, and it’s with a pressed kiss to her forehead that Kurt remembers wondering if maybe she was closer to feeling safe with him than they’d previously thought, that maybe this -- her asking him to give up his voice for her and falling asleep on top of him -- could be more than just comfort.

Kurt knows, now, that this is the beginnings of absolute trust.

Kurt doesn’t have it in him to let her go and move her to the bed just yet, content to sit and rock and hold her while she sleeps. It’s how Blaine finds them a good fifteen minutes later when he arrives home, Joy’s arms and legs wrapped around Kurt like a koala, the pair of them quiet and anchored together.

Blaine’s smile is what prompts Kurt to his feet.

Neither of them speaks until after Kurt’s tucked Joy into her bed and shut the door behind them, and even then, Kurt finds his words failing him. In spite of the upturn after the altercation, Kurt still feels a little shaken, and without Joy in his arms, he finds himself in need of an anchor. He’s unabashed in the way he flings his arms around Blaine’s neck and exhales heavily against Blaine’s skin, reveling in the warmth of Blaine’s hands against his back. “ _Whoa_ ,” Blaine huffs quietly, rocking a little on his feet. “You okay?”

“I’m --” Kurt starts before cutting himself off abruptly. He’s not sure what might come out of his mouth, actually, and he realizes that it’s because he’s _not_ sure if he’s okay. He’s left things on good terms with Joy, for the time being, but Blaine’s arrival serves as a reminder that Kurt was very much alone for the space of a few hours. And as much as Kurt is continuing to try and prove to himself that he’s capable of doing this, he absolutely doesn’t believe he can do it alone. He doesn’t want to. He wants _Blaine_ , wants his family, wants to be himself both apart from and as a part of them. “It’s complicated,” he murmurs around a sigh, sound muffled against Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine pulls back and studies him for a moment before reaching down to take one of Kurt’s hands. “Okay, come here,” he beckons, leading Kurt down the hall into the living room. Kurt follows his lead and sinks down on the couch after him, not ready to let go of Blaine’s hand just yet. “What happened here while I was gone?” Blaine prompts, ducking his head a little to try and get Kurt to look at him properly.

Kurt closes his eyes and tries to focus on the way Blaine’s hand fits into his, the soft slide of skin soothing. “I’m probably making a big deal out of nothing,” he says, the words feeling foreign on his tongue with how much he _wishes_ this wasn’t a big deal to him. “It’s silly --”

“Hey,” Blaine says gently, prompting Kurt to actually look up at him. “It’s not silly. You seem _rattled_ , Kurt. That alone is enough to warrant worry.”

“Oh,” Kurt breathes, reaching for Blaine’s other hand. “No, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean to make you worry about -- Joy’s _fine_.”

Blaine visibly relaxes, tension melting out of his shoulders and breath coming a little easier, but there’s something thoughtful in his expression that Kurt can’t quite figure out. “But you _aren’t_. Just -- talk to me, okay? Tell me what happened.”

Blaine hears him even when he doesn’t speak, and for the first time all day, Kurt feels safe in his vulnerability. He releases one of Blaine’s hands and props his head up in his hand, curling up against the back of the couch. Blaine’s constant, steady hold on his other hand is enough to keep him grounded and anchored, and on the couch, the story ends where it started. “Things were mostly fine, after you left,” Kurt allows. “She even asked me to hold her for a while.”

A smile sparks onto Blaine’s face, albeit reserved and hesitant. “Okay, that’s… good. So what changed?”

Kurt takes a heavy, uneven breath in an attempt to steady himself. “It, um -- I was trying to figure out what to make for lunch,” he explains around a sigh, chest feeling tight. “She kept asking for cookies -- the homemade ones in the cabinet? She asked for one multiple times, tried reaching past me to get it herself. She had like a whole fixation with them for some reason. And I -- I kept telling her no, that she had to wait until she was done with lunch. She seemed kind of… annoyed that I wouldn’t let her have one, but eventually she stopped asking and we figured out lunch and everything was fine.”

“But it wasn’t fine,” Blaine says knowingly. “I’m assuming it wasn’t fine because you wouldn’t be this shaken up otherwise.”

Kurt shifts uncomfortably on the couch and resolutely doesn’t look in the direction of the kitchen. “I left the room for less than five minutes,” Kurt says, _knowing_ it sounds like he’s defending himself but unable to come up with a better way of recounting the rest of this to Blaine. “I went to the bathroom and then went looking for a bow to keep her hair out of her face. It took me a few minutes to find it -- the pink one? It was --”

“-- in her pillowcase?” Blaine guesses.

“Yeah,” Kurt confirms, trying his best not to sound awkward or resentful. He’s not surprised that Blaine would know where it had been hidden because Blaine is the one who’s here with her, day in and day out. Kurt can’t hold that against him, and it’s honestly not important, in the grand scheme of things. “Anyway, I, uh -- I went back into the kitchen to start making lunch and --” And his words fail him again, here, because his heart has lodged itself in his throat again at the mere memory of what he’d walked in on.

Blaine runs his thumb along the back of Kurt’s hand. “Kurt?” he prompts gently.

Kurt swallows hard and uses his free hand to gesture in explanation to keep it from trembling. “She, um -- she’d moved one of the chairs from the table and pushed it up against the counter,” he says, _hating_ the way his voice quavers. “She was using it to climb onto the counter so she could get to the cabinet with the cookies.”

Surprise is evident on Blaine’s face. “She’s… never done anything like that before.”

“Yeah, no, I -- I figured,” Kurt says thickly, blinking furiously in an effort not to start crying again.

Blaine must be able to tell that Kurt’s starting to unravel again because he bites his lip and scoots a little closer, eyes clouded in confusion. “So… what did you do?”

“What do you think I did?” Kurt says around a gasp, unable to hold back anymore. “I _panicked_. All I could think about was what if I’d taken another minute and she’d slipped or lost her balance and fallen and hit her head?” And just like that, Kurt struggles to breathe again and no, no, no, this is what he’s been trying to avoid since it happened. He doesn’t want to panic again, doesn’t want to deal with the what ifs and the crippling fear. He has to keep trying, he has to work through it and get past this part in the story because it got _better_ , and he knows he can breathe again if he just keeps going. “So I -- I went and I -- I grabbed her to make sure she was safe, you know? But then I just -- I _lost it_. I got so mad at her. And I knew she knew she wasn’t supposed to do something like that, so I put her in timeout because I thought that was what you would do, but the whole time I felt like I was overreacting and I just --”

“Okay, Kurt, just… _breathe_ ,” Blaine interjects, grabbing Kurt’s flailing hand. Kurt exhales sharply through his nose and tries to focus on the way Blaine’s hands fit into his, the cadence of his voice. “Look, I -- I wasn’t here, so I can’t say anything for your attitude or demeanor or tone of voice, but putting her in timeout was the right call, Kurt. I would’ve done the same thing, if she’d done it when I was here.”

Another sharp exhale and Kurt actually _can’t_ look at him anymore because Blaine doesn’t understand. He drops his gaze to where their hands are joined and chooses his words carefully. “See, that’s the thing, Blaine. I don’t think she would’ve done it, if you’d been here. I mean, you said it yourself, she’d never really done anything like that with you before.”

“Well, yeah,” Blaine allows, sounding confused, “but that doesn’t change the fact that -- _oh_.” And Kurt can hear it, then, in the soft exhale of Blaine’s voice, the realization and the failed attempt at concealing pity. “You think she was testing you.”

Kurt’s mouth twists into a self-deprecating smile. “I know, I know -- she’s only three and it’s silly to --”

“No,” Blaine says, slow and hesitant but sounding sure, “it’s not silly. I think you’re right.” _That_ gets Kurt to look up at him again, surprised at the ease with which Blaine just agreed with him. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting to get out of Blaine, not with the way Blaine had adamantly refused that Kurt had something to prove right before Father’s Day. Blaine had sworn, then, that he wasn’t testing Kurt, not anymore, and while Kurt _knows_ that, believes it, this isn’t the same. Joy isn’t the same, and even though Kurt doesn’t think Blaine would speak for her, he did sort of expect Blaine to defend her. “I mean, she _is_ only three, so I doubt she was aware that’s what she was doing, and even if she was, I don’t think she would’ve really known _why_ ,” Blaine adds, as much of a defense as Kurt was expecting.

“But you _do_ think she was testing me?” Kurt asks, still surprised to have the awkward gut feeling validated.

“Yeah,” Blaine says softly, “I do. But that’s -- finish your story, first, and then I’ll come back to this. Based on what I walked in on when I got home, I’m guessing things got better after you put her in timeout?”

Kurt’s brow wrinkles at the change of focus, and he releases one of Blaine’s hands to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes and no?” he ventures, figuring that’s closest to the most accurate answer he has to give. “I mean, I was kind of a mess after I put her in timeout. She was crying, I was crying, it was just… kind of a disaster.”

“Well, did you talk to her?” Blaine tries. “Once the five minutes was over, did you talk to her about --”

“-- about what she did and why it’s not okay, yeah, yeah, of course I did,” Kurt dismisses. “She knew it, anyway, but don’t worry, I talked to her about it. I know how you like to deal with discipline.”

“So what _changed_ , Kurt?” Blaine pries. “For the past two weeks, she’s been reaching for me every time you and I are in the same room together. If she’d stayed mad at you after what happened today, I doubt I would’ve found her passed out on top of you when I got home today. So what changed?”

And again, Kurt swallows around the lump in his throat, because he _knows_ what changed. He knows what he did that finally got through to her, and her response to it all but confirmed his suspicions that she’d been testing him, that she hadn’t trusted him entirely up until that point. And it’s just -- he doesn’t want _this_ to be the reason that adjusting has been difficult for them, because it’s such a simple solution that he’d feel really ridiculous that he hadn’t done it sooner. Dropping his eyes again, Kurt uses the only words he has as a buffer to the truth. “I told her that I’d gotten scared, seeing her up there like that. I told her I didn’t want her to get hurt, you know?” A breath, and then, “I told her I loved her.”

Kurt chances a glance up at Blaine to find him looking a little perplexed. “Have you… not said that to her before?”

“No,” Kurt admits quietly, voice barely there, “I hadn’t.”

Blaine’s expression doesn’t change. “Are you sure that’s what made a diff --”

“Yes,” Kurt bites out, more sharply than he originally intended, “because the first words out of her mouth after I said it were _like Daddy does_?”

Blaine’s whole face softens and crumples at that, and Kurt thinks that he finally, finally understands. “Oh,” Blaine breathes, sounding moved. “Oh, Kurt, that’s -- come here,” he says, using his grip on Kurt’s hand to pull them closer together. Kurt goes with the pull easily, shoulders curling inward as he allows himself to be tucked into Blaine’s arms. It’s a little awkward, with the small swell of Blaine’s belly between them, and that stupid, nagging insecurity from earlier comes back in full force. Regardless of how confident or capable he is, regardless of how well he’s proven himself thus far or how well (or not so well) he’d handled today’s crisis, there’s still a part of Kurt that worries that he can’t do this no matter how hard he tries. At the end of the day, he’s still here worrying that he’s just going to end up being some second-rate version of Blaine as a parent instead of the person he _wants_ to be -- himself as a parent. And if he can’t do this -- if Kurt has to fight tooth and nail just to get Joy to accept even a second-rate version of him -- then what are the chances Kurt is even going to be able to raise this baby?

He hates this. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

“Kurt, can I offer some perspective?” Blaine ventures. “I think it might make you feel better.”

“Please,” Kurt huffs wetly, pulling away enough so that they can look at each other properly. “At this point, I’ll take what I can get. I am… so _done_ with feeling inadequate.”

Blaine reaches down to take both of Kurt’s hands again, clearly taking the time to choose his words carefully. “For her entire life, I have been the only permanent fixture of a caretaker she’s had,” he explains. “She knows the difference between me and someone else. She knows that she only sees my parents and Cooper a few times a year. She knows that the daycare center is only during the day, and it’s not every day. I spend half of that time there with her anyway. And if I have someone else watch her, it’s always temporary, whether it’s Chloe or Meredith or you. I’m the one who comes home at the end of the day and I’m the one she wakes up to in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kurt says slowly. “We went over this last night. I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

Blaine takes a breath, clearly gearing himself up. “Kurt, you’ve been around more than anyone else has, at least in this capacity. But you’re not -- you haven’t been here like I have.”

“That’s not exactly my fault,” Kurt defends. “I didn’t even know she existed until Halloween, much less know she was my daughter.”

“No, I know,” Blaine placates. “That’s not what I -- Kurt, all I’m trying to say is that in the time she’s known you, the most you’ve been around on a sort of consistent and regular basis is four nights a week.”

“Again, that’s not really my fault,” Kurt counters, growing increasingly frustrated. “I’m working with what you’re giving me here, Blaine. I’m taking every opportunity I can get to be here and -- and try to help her understand that I’m here for her.”

“I know --”

“Okay, then can you just get to the point you’re trying to make?” Kurt pleads, hating the way tears are stinging at his eyes again. “Because I -- I keep telling myself that I can do this and she kept pushing me away and testing me and it’s taking everything I have right now to pick myself up and keep going after today regardless of what note we left things on. And it’s -- it’s seriously just chipping away at my confidence, Blaine, because I’m doing my best with her and it doesn’t feel like enough and if I can’t do this with Joy, then maybe I can’t do it with this baby, either, and I --”

“Okay, hey, hey, shh,” Blaine soothes, cupping Kurt’s face in his hands. The touch is startling and intimate enough to cause the tears in Kurt’s eyes to crest over his cheeks and fall onto Blaine’s hands. “Kurt, listen to me,” Blaine says gently, wiping at some of the tears with one of his thumbs. “You’re a _good_ dad. That was true even before you knew she was your daughter. But I _promise you_ that no one expects you to be _me_ , Kurt. Not even Joy.”

Kurt manages a wet, incredulous laugh and tries to pull away a little. “It sure seems like she does.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Blaine says, refusing to release him. “Just _listen_ to me, okay? I need you to understand what happened to her today. I removed myself from the equation, remember? And that _did_ force her hand a little bit, as much as I don’t like to look at it that way. But it gave _her_ an opportunity, Kurt. Without me in the picture, she needed to see if you would treat her the same way I do, at least on a basic level.”

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut in frustration and removes one of Blaine’s hands from his face, letting their hands fall to his lap. “How is that _not_ expecting me to be you?”

“Because it’s not about comparing us,” Blaine explains. “Do you remember what I said to her, on Father’s Day? Kurt, I promised her that you’d be here to take care of her _just like I do_.” Kurt’s eyes flutter open at the memory, and the warmth in Blaine’s expression is enough to make Kurt’s breath come a little easier. “Kurt, telling her that _you love her_ is proof enough to start believing that. She _needed_ that today.”

Kurt works his jaw and exhales sharply, unable to squash the doubt billowing inside of him. “Then why doesn’t it feel like enough?”

“Because it isn’t,” Blaine says, gentle as ever. “It’s a _start_.”

And the thing is, Kurt _knows_ that, because he’d said the same thing to himself in the kitchen earlier. It’d taken an entire meltdown between them for Kurt to learn to be grateful for the progress they’d made today, to appreciate the ease of quiet tactility. And it’s not like he hadn’t been grateful for it before their altercation. It’s just -- he wasn’t _wrong_ about the good and the bad going hand in hand. In spite of a part of him _knowing_ that Joy testing him might be the only way she can really begin to understand what he’s supposed to mean to her, Kurt has so wanted things to be easier. And _god_ , the fact that he’s this upset over managing Joy’s expectations reminds him that he’s projected his own onto her without realizing it despite being adamant that he wasn’t going to do that. It’s not that his feelings don’t matter; it’s that he can’t keep his unrealistic expectations in check, and that just makes Kurt feel _worse_ than he already does.

And yet in spite of his mistakes, Joy _is_ opening up to him again.

And with striking clarity, he remembers.

“She called me Papa,” he says, voice barely there.

There’s something almost… aching in Blaine’s smile. “That’s good,” he points out warmly. “Especially when you consider how low your expectations were last night.”

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and pulls his head away from Blaine’s hand. “I think my expectations were higher than I realized.”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine says, his tone making it clear that he expects Kurt to look at him again. “It’s okay to _want_ things. You were the one who reminded me of that.”

“Not like this,” Kurt says thickly, hardly able to look him in the eye. “You don’t -- you don’t understand. I’ve been trying so _hard_ to be careful not to do this -- to want something so much that I end up hurting someone else. And that’s -- I feel like I -- I don’t want to be that person.”

“And you’re _not_ ,” Blaine insists, ducking his head a little to try and get Kurt to look at him again. “Kurt, I know that today -- that the last few weeks have been really rough on you -- but you can’t keep doing this to yourself. The more you second-guess yourself, the harder this is going to be on both of you. You _have_ to focus on the good things that are coming out of this.”

Kurt finally looks back up at him and manages a weak smile. “I think I could use a few reminders.”

Blaine reaches for his other hand and laces their fingers together. “Like… the fact that she’s reestablishing close physical contact and intimacy,” Blaine offers. “Like in spite of the fact that you hit a rough patch, you were able to handle her on your own today. Like the fact that she probably understands that we’re going to handle discipline the same way. Like the fact that she _knows_ you love her now. Like the fact that she’s comfortable enough around you to let you sing her to sleep again. Like -- god, Kurt, like the fact that _she called you Papa_ ,” Blaine emphasizes, squeezing Kurt’s hand tight.

“It was just the once,” Kurt murmurs, deflecting a little.

“I don’t think it’s the quantity that counts here, Kurt,” Blaine drawls teasingly. “The fact that she said it was probably very deliberate, given how withdrawn she’s been in the last couple of weeks. She acknowledged you as her _father_ , Kurt. That’s a lot more than just a start. And I think you know that, but it means that we need to follow it up with something more substantial now that you’ve built a foundation. We need to show her that you’re going to be here for her day in and day out like I am.”

“So, what,” Kurt laughs, a little dry, “I get bumped up to being relegated to five nights a week instead of four?”

Some of the warmth fades from Blaine’s expression, almost like he’s a little stung by the remark, but his voice is still as gentle and patient as ever. “No,” he says evenly. “I think you should move in.”

“You -- _what_?” Kurt asks breathlessly, caught off guard.

“I think you should move in,” Blaine repeats, just as evenly as the first time. Kurt can’t do much more than simply _stare_ at him and try to remember how to breathe, because whatever idea he was expecting Blaine to put forth, it definitely wasn’t this. And Blaine obviously knows that Kurt’s fairly stunned by the suggestion, because his lips sort of twist into an odd little smile. “You do already have a key,” Blaine reminds him.

“Which you gave me _last night_ ,” Kurt counters. “I thought we were finally taking things slow. I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is,” Blaine affirms. He hesitates for a second before reaching for Kurt’s other hand, and it’s his turn to not meet Kurt’s eyes. “Look, I think -- I think I’ve kind of resigned myself to the fact that all of the changes we’re going through are kind of on an accelerated timeline because I’m pregnant. But this? This is probably something we should’ve talked about when we told Joy the truth about you. I mean, it would’ve been a _lot_ for her to try and deal with all at once, but I think it might’ve made her feel more secure.”

“So you don’t -- you don’t think this is moving too fast?” Kurt asks, hesitant and wary.

Blaine looks up at him at that, something aching behind his eyes. “You want to be here, with us,” he says, an echo of his words from last night -- except this time, it’s not a question. “You want to be here for Joy. So _be here_ , Kurt. If I keep relegating you to a certain number of overnights each week, if you keep doubting your ability to be a father to our children, we’re creating our own obstacles. We’re getting in our own way. And given the state of things, I’d say that us moving in together is honestly just an inevitability at this point.”

“The, um -- the state of things?” Kurt echoes, clearing his throat.

The ache gives way to amusement, and Blaine’s smile feels the most genuine it has since he came back. “We’re together,” he says. “And yes, we haven’t even been back together for five months yet, but that’s close to five months on top of the four and a half months we spent reconnecting since running into each other last September, on top of the three years we were broken up, on top of the year and a half we were together, on top of the five months we were friends before we started dating. That’s more than five and a half years, Kurt. And all of that time counts. The clock didn’t just reset when we got back together over Valentine’s Day. It unpaused from where we left off. _Five and a half years_.”

“That’s… about us, though, not her,” Kurt argues breathlessly, hardly willing to put up a fight anymore. He has loved Blaine for every _minute_ of those five and a half years, and Kurt wants nothing more than to be here, with him -- with them.

He wants to be home.

“This is about us _and_ about her,” Blaine maintains, scooting a little closer. “And if we’re being realistic, you moving in here would only be temporary anyway.”

Kurt blinks in surprise and shakes his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

A laugh bursts out of Blaine, sudden and unexpected, and he uses his grip on one of Kurt’s hands to move it to rest over the swell of his stomach. “Kurt, we’re having a baby. This apartment has been big enough for me and Joy, and it’s probably big enough for you too, but it’s not big enough for our whole family. We need more room for when the baby arrives.”

And just like that, everything else melts away -- the insecurities and the doubt and the wavering confidence and the fortress of solitude and anything else holding Kurt back and making him feel like he’s not moving forward. They’ve both been struggling so much with the _now_ that it’s been hard to think about how different their lives will be at the start of next year. Blaine is thinking long-term because he has to, because there’s nothing for them to do _but_ move forward. But Blaine is also thinking long-term because this is what he wants -- a life with Kurt and their children in Manhattan, marked by pins and pencils.

Kurt thinks it’s what Blaine’s wanted for a very long time, and it takes the reminder of _five and a half years_ for Kurt to realize that as different of a person as he may be at twenty-three, there are still some things he’s wanted since he was seventeen.

Blaine leans in close and presses their foreheads together, and with Blaine’s hand in his, Kurt knows he’s not alone. “Come _home_ , Kurt,” Blaine breathes, a hint of pleading in his voice.

Together, they move forward, and the universe is _full_ of possibilities again.

* * * * *


End file.
